


Heavy

by CoraRochester



Category: Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Explicit Language, F/M, Sexual Content, Unresolved Sexual Tension
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-05-10
Updated: 2014-06-23
Packaged: 2018-01-24 05:58:39
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 12
Words: 79,454
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1594148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CoraRochester/pseuds/CoraRochester
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Bethyl Season 4 AU.  Daryl 3rd person POV.</p><p>"He didn't think on Beth. Tried not to... That was a fool thing to do, and Daryl Dixon wasn't a fool. Just a man trying to survive."  </p><p>Daryl brings some books home from a run, causing a subtle shift in his relationship with Beth.  Heavy charts a slow burn relationship between the pair, taking a look at life at the prison and diverging slightly from the events of season 4.  </p><p>Also posted on FF.net.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

_“Up until then it had only been himself. Up to then it had been a private wrestle between him and himself. Nobody else much entered into it. After the people came into it he was, of course, a different man. Everything had changed then and he was no longer the virgin, with the virgin's right to insist upon platonic love. Life, in time, takes every maidenhead, even if it has to dry it up; it does not matter how the owner wants to keep it.”_ James Jones, _From Here to Eternity_

…

Books were damn heavy. Daryl shifted the pack slung across his back, grimacing. The run for medical supplies had been a bust, but he wasn’t about to return totally empty handed. He had the notion that if you saw something useful in the sea of broken down shit, you’d better grab it quick, before someone else did. A lifetime of hard living had made him a piece of shit guy in a lot of ways, he reckoned. But he knew how to survive, how to make the most out of the petty moments. And slinging an armful of books he’d found in a church basement into a bag wasn’t hard. After a few more moments of poking around in already pillaged rec room, he made his way out the back entrance, his motorcycle parked right outside the door. He glanced around, double-checking that the coast was clear and squinting into the late afternoon sunlight, then slung a leg over the bike. He started it up and drove off, keeping close watch on the road. No sense being outside prison gates after dark. Time to get home, get back to his perch.

He didn’t read much. He liked it well enough, not that anyone’d believe that, but he’d just much rather be out doing something, especially these days. Every now and then, though, he’d pull something down from a dusty shelf in the prison library. Daryl wasn’t the only one, either. Not that she ever really did what a body could call complaining, he’d even heard Beth remark that she wished there were some better books in there for her to read. “A girl can’t live on _Moby Dick_ and westerns alone,” she’d sighed to Maggie one night at dinner, Judith propped up against her shoulder and tugging on a fistful of blonde hair delightedly. “And I’m not about to start reading the phonebook,” she’d said, with a roll of her eyes and a wry smile on her lips before gently untangling her hair from sticky baby fingers. So when he saw the disorderly piles of books on a sagging bookshelf, a worn copy of _Gone With the Wind_ right on the top, he was shoveling books into the pack, and definitely not thinking about _why_.

It was near to sunset by the time he got back, the great metal doors opening with drawn out groans that almost drowned out the moaning walkers doggedly staggering after him. He revved up, riding into the relative safety of the gates, privately relishing the definitive _clang_ the doors made as they shut behind him. As much as he didn’t like being cooped up with everybody all the time, he always felt better when he was back inside, not that he’d acknowledge that to anyone.

After parking his bike, Daryl made his way back up to C block, nodding at Carl, who was talking with a beanpole kid wearing glasses. By the time he’d made it to the dining area, the place was mostly cleared out, dinner done and the dishes cleared away, which was all fine by him. He saw Rick chatting with a small group of folks from Woodbury, so caught the man’s eye and shook his head. He saw Rick’s shoulders slump. The shit they needed, the medicine and tools and ammo and food, all that was getting harder and harder to find in the quantities they needed. And they were having to go further and further out. Take more risks. There was a big grocery store a ways out, probably full of walkers. Even with the Governor unaccounted for, they might have to take the risk to explore that place, and soon.

Dropping the bag for a quick minute but keeping the Horton slung over his shoulder, Daryl made up a bowl of mystery stew for himself, sniffing cautiously before shoveling a spoonful into his mouth. You never knew what you might get, but he was lucky that night. Venison, from that buck he brought down the day before. He’d have to go hunting again soon, maybe bring Carl along with him. Had to keep a kid like that busy, or else he’d get in trouble

Heavy bag in one hand, already almost empty bowl of stew in the other and crossbow slung across his back, he wound his way through the dim, windowless corridors until he made it to the library. He shoved the door open with an elbow, trying not too jostle his stew too much but spilling a glob between his thumb and forefinger all the same. Pushing through the door, he lifted his hand to his mouth, licking up the mess.

Daryl heard her before he saw her, softly singing some old song that felt vaguely familiar to him. She was stretched out next to the baby on a thick blanket, both of them facing away from the door on their bellies and facing the sunset-orange sunlight coming in through the windows. Beth was propped up on her elbows, one thin leg kicked up behind her. He hadn’t been looking for her, but he was glad she was here. He didn’t like to think about it much, because it couldn’t ever mean anything, but she was a pretty sight. She’d changed a lot, somewhere along the way, became tough and stayed soft all at once, thin-limbed and yellow-haired, with strong hands from killing walkers with a crowbar and an ease and understanding with Lil’ Asskicker no one else possessed. They’d all changed. But Beth was something else.

The door slammed behind him and he resisted the urge to flinch as her song abruptlydropped off. She turned lightning-quick to fix her eyes on the door and a smile crossed her face when she saw who it was. “Hey,” Beth said, sitting up and tugging her t-shirt down, covering the pale sliver of skin above the waist of her jeans. She lifted up the baby and gently set her on her back, and he watched the way she gently cupped the baby’s head with protective hands.

“Hey,” he said, walking over to her. He set the bag down next to her and crouched across the blanket from her, the cheerfully talkative baby between them. “Found some books,” he said, tilting his head towards the bag. “First pick, if ya want.” Daryl didn’t wait for a response, digging back into his dinner. He kept his eyes on the baby as he finished off the stew. Beth was sorting through the various paperbacks and humming softly by the time he set the bowl down at his side and settled more comfortably on his ass, crossbow finally unloaded on the ground next to him, pointedly facing the weapon away from the girls. He gently rubbed Lil’ Asskicker’s belly, letting the soothing sounds of soft baby chatter wash over him. After a moment, Daryl let himself look over at Beth.

She was flipping through _Gone With the Wind_ , the book that’d caught his eye. Beth must’ve felt his eyes on her, because she looked over at him, meeting his eyes. “I had a copy just like this one back at the farm,” she said, holding the book aloft with a small smile playing on her lips. The book looked like a print from the seventies, with a gaudy painting of Vivan Leigh and Clark Gable above a miniature Tara and little images of the other characters scattered about without any attention paid to scale. “It was my mother’s.” Beth held his gaze for a moment longer, still smiling that little smile, and he felt a flush crawling up his neck.

Daryl was saved from scrounging for an adequate reply by the appearance of Rick, who poked his head into the library. “Daryl. Carol said she saw you heading this way. Got a minute?” The man looked tired and Daryl felt guilty for disappearing off to the library.

“Yeah, man. Be right out.” He ran his hand over Judith one last time and stood, rearming himself before gathering up his now empty bag and empty dish. “Take whatever ya want. I’ll let ya find a home for the rest of ‘em.”

He was almost to the door before he heard Beth call his name. “Daryl.” He paused, palm flat against the door. He turned, looking at both of the girls over his shoulder. “Thank you,” she said. The last bit of weak light streamed through the windows, painting shadows and light over her bare arms and making her hair a halo.

“S’ nothin’,” he said. And then turned and slipped out of the library to talk with Rick.

…

The influx of people made him a little jumpy, which was the reason he spent a lot of time smoking in a quiet corner of the yard where all his meticulously collected mechanic’s tools were kept. Most kept away from him here, especially as he’d taken to threatening anyone that got too close to so much as a wrench. Everybody needed their space, and he’d carved out his own little domain where he could tinker or not, depending on his mood. He’d grown up in a trailer, sure, shared a little bit of space with people he didn’t much care for. All that had meant was that he’d spent a lot of time out in the woods, hunting, camping, and generally being alone. Daryl was relatively used to the original group, could spend an awful lot of time with people like Rick who understood how to be quiet, but adapting to the huge pileup of Woodbury folks was making him a little crazy. Someone was always in the showers, the cafeteria, the gardens. Somebody always wanted to talk to him, ask him something or just _chat_ , like this was a damn barbeque. But not here, at least. Not at his makeshift outdoor garage. Legs stretched out on the cement in front of him and narrowed eyes staring down the walkers trapped outside the fences, he took a long drag of his cigarette, savoring it. Never knew when he might run out.

Daryl missed the peace and quiet of before. He missed just being able to go out into the woods and hunt with just a six pack and a bow for company. Didn’t have to spend the whole time looking over his shoulder for enemies or walkers back then. He missed his shitty little trailer and trusty pickup and the mangy fleabag dog he’d feed whenever it came around, which was pretty often. He’d lived alone for a long time and lived inside his own head for an even longer time. Back then, being with people used to be a choice. Get drunk at the bar with Merle if he felt like it. Fuck some blurry-faced woman after a night out. Shoot the shit with those guys from the auto repair joint he worked at. None of those things were options anymore. Merle was fucking nothing but a blood stain now and Daryl hadn’t gotten laid since before the walkers. And what he got up to with Rick and Glen didn’t much resemble smoking and drinking in someone’s garage, Rebel flag nailed up on the wall and Nascar on the radio.

Now, the only choice was survive or die. He’d gotten as used to sharing space as best he could and figured no one had died from lack of sex. Even a dog knew better than to shit where it slept, and, besides, he didn’t really have any options. Wasn’t about to go speed dating with the women from Woodbury. Maggie was Glenn’s, plain and simple. Michonne was attractive enough and more than handy with a sword, but he wasn’t about to try screwing her. Liked his head just fine where it was at.

And Carol… He cared about her, more than most others in fact, but he just didn’t want her like that. He knew there were broken bits inside her he’d never be able to do anything with. They weren’t for each other like that, and with everybody living on top of each other, there wasn’t any sense in trying to force it. Daryl knew she thought about it, had felt her appraising eyes on him. But she didn’t press it, and he never mentioned it. It was better that way.

He didn’t think on Beth. Tried not to think of her as anything else than Judy’s caretaker. She wasn’t for him, and that was for damn sure. She was too young and pretty, in every sense of those two fucking words. He’d spent a fair bit of time with her, because she often had the baby and he liked being around the little scene the two girls made. But it was no more time than he’d spent with anybody else, and he didn’t want to attach any special significance to it. That was a fool thing to do, and Daryl Dixon wasn’t a fool. Just a man trying to survive.

It was getting late, real late. The walkers were starting to calm in the quiet dark, as most everybody was inside the prison, no longer stirring up a ruckus and inadvertently riling the walkers up. He finished off the cigarette before stubbing it out on the asphalt, breathing out a cloud of blue smoke on a sigh. Time to get back inside. Rick would probably want to talk again. Ever since his last run near about a week ago, when he’d returned empty handed but for books, they’d been planning and discussing the inevitability that Daryl would simply have to take a large group out and try to get into the big market. Tossing one final look at the crowd of walkers, he hauled himself onto his feet and headed towards C-block.

Upon making his way inside, though, he was relieved to see the place was pretty much settled for the night. Even Carl seemed to be bunked in, although Daryl suspected he was reading comics under the covers with a flashlight again, based on the papery rustling and muffled laughter he heard. Used to be the boy was stealing guns and running off, now he was staying up nights, laughing it up over Spiderman or some shit. Daryl smirked to himself. Carl was a good kid.

He liked quiet nights like this, when everyone was tucked away and quiet. It gave him a chance to take a walk through the block, double checking that all was as it should be, everyone safe and all the doors locked up. He’d sometimes wake in the night, breathing heavy and sweating, and do a quick walk through of the place with his bow over his shoulder and his knife on his belt. Daryl wasn’t one for talking, but it didn’t mean he didn’t keep an eye and an ear on things. Rick’s cell was quiet except for the occasional snore; the man was probably sleeping off all the hours spent building that ramshackle pigpen and weeding. Carol’s cell was quiet and dark as well, her breathing low and slow. Hershel was reading, judging by the light spilling under the curtain in front of his door. The man always read his bible before bed. Said he was getting old and didn’t need as much sleep as he used to, but needed his gospel more than ever. Daryl figured he could understand that, even though he’d never found anything in the damn book. Maggie and Glenn’s cell was as it usually was: dark, with muffled laughter and sighs and all that bullshit going on. No surprise there.

Beth was up, though, judging by the soothing melodic whispers and intermittent fussy, high-pitched baby grunts. He’d seen her with the baby often enough, knew what it looked like. She’d be rocking and pacing, and girl moved so prettily it would look almost like ballroom dancing without the fancy dress. The baby’s fat cheeks would be red and tearstained, a little crease in her tiny forehead. Beth had the patience of a saint, though, and would be dancing and humming until Lil Asskicker reluctantly slipped into sleep. He paused for a moment, just listening. Something about that little girl and her beautiful caretaker made Daryl feel good, like maybe there was a chance for something better. That eventually shit could go back to something like the way it was before. Maybe not for _him_ , but for Jude.

The hummed lullaby, soft and low, washed over him, soothing away some of his constant tension. Same song she was singing a while ago, but he still couldn’t figure out what it was. He inhaled deeply, the air of the prison heavy but fresh, and he closed his eyes for a quick moment, listening to the soft sounds of the group sleeping, resting, reading, acting like a bunch of rabbits. Everyone was where they should be for the moment.

He turned from Beth’s cell, made his way up to his perch. Maybe he'd sleep the night through, this time.

…

He was gutting a deer in the yard, mind only half on his task. It was something he’d been doing since he was a kid, didn’t have to focus too much on what his hands were doing.

Daryl wasn’t much given to thinking about his past. Didn’t much see the point, since most of it was nothing but shit. But his mind usually wandered when he was up to the elbows in guts, peeling back deer skin and cutting through muscle and sinews. He could see things, sometimes, like they were yesterday. His mom’s face, sagging skin and red-rimmed eyes. A good day, when his dad took him and Merle to a high school football game. Going camping with just a shitty knife he’d lifted from the store, getting lost. It was like watching one of those art films, disjointed scenes moving together to make something only something like a storyline. Goddamn, but he missed watching movies. Used to have stacks of them, would hunt through the five-dollar bin at Wal-Mart some midnights when he left the bar early, too sick of Merle’s shit to stick around. He’d drink a few beers and watch movies until his eyes burned and he fell into bed.

He’d been reading lately. Beth gave him a big book, one of the ones he’d grabbed at that church. _From Here to Eternity_. Daryl had seen the movie, some old black and white thing about Pearl Harbor just before the attack, ages ago. Couldn’t much remember it, but he liked the book, even though it felt a little like pulling teeth sometimes. Gave him something to do in those quiet moments when he’d rather not be alone with his thoughts.

Daryl was quick with the deer carcass, getting rid of what they couldn’t use and bringing the meat into the kitchen. He handed the venison off to a short, older woman with long grey hair and bifocals, a transplant from Woodbury who knew what to do with the fresh meat. He never remembered her name, but he remembered that she told him about her husband, who had been a hunter before he got himself bit. He had a real nice gun, used to get hunting magazines delivered to his house every month and read them out loud to her as she quilted. All that was gone now, but she always seemed happy to see Daryl. He'd have to ask Carol or Beth what her name was.

He washed up before grabbing some food. It was late, well after lunch time, and he was thankful the kitchen and cafeteria are all but cleared out. Daryl took a whole table to himself, spreading his crossbow and other gear across the table as a warning, and immediately started stuffing greens into his face, suddenly more hungry than he had realized.

Daryl was almost done when Beth walked into the cafeteria, book tucked under her arm and bowl in her hands. She caught sight of him real quick, and before he knew it, he was clearing a space for her. She smiled at him as she sat down, plunking down that battered copy of _Gone With the Wind_ between her bowl of greens and his big buck knife. 

“Good hunting today, I saw,” she says, still smiling.

He nodded, poking this fork into the soggy remnants of lunch. “Yeah,” he said, ducking his head. He pulled his handkerchief out, a stained red mechanics rag he pilfered from some auto shop a while back, and wiped his mouth. “Y’ain’t got your shadow. Who’s got Lil’ Asskicker?”

“Carol. She wanted a break from laundry duty. I got a whole half-hour of freedom before I gotta fold a giant stack of shirts. Might even finish up a chapter,” she answered, tapping a clean nail on the book cover.

“Saw the movie,” he volunteered after a moment of silence. “She’s a piece’a work, that woman.” 

“Didn’t figure you for the _Gone With the Wind_ type,” Beth said with a teasing smile.

He felt a self-conscious blush starting on his neck. He scraped the last of his meal into his mouth and chewed before answering. “Seen a lot of movies.”

“Maggie cried when she read the book, and she cried at the movie. I still make fun of her for it. She likes to act all tough, but she’s a big baby when it comes to Scarlett and Rhett.”

Daryl figured most women cried at that movie. His ma had, he remembered. He studied Beth for a moment, the blonde mop pulled up out of her face, the neat and careful way she ate her greens. She moved so purposefully, an entrancing economy of motion she’d grown into when Jude had been dropped into her lap. She moved like he figured a mother ought to, efficient and confident. Wearing an overlarge sweater and jeans, Beth looked like something he just had to see. One moment, her ponytail would fall over her face and she’d look just like a kid, a high school girl at the homecoming game. Other moments, the light would catch the side of her face, light up her eyes, and he could see something else: the curve of her neck, the sky blue eyes that watched over him and everybody else, seeing all sorts of stuff no one else did. “You didn’t cry? Thought girls turned into mop buckets over that damn book.”

Beth laughed. “Nothin’ to cry about, Daryl. She’ll get him back. We just never see it happen.” Her blue eyes locked onto his, and he didn’t let himself look away. “Remember when she said she’d never go hungry again? I think she’s finally figured out what it’s like to feel real hunger for something that isn’t money or Ashley or Tara. She’ll be real pissed that he’s gone, madder than a cat. But he’ll come back when he’s ready. And then she’ll get her way, an’ she knows it.”

He made a noncommittal noise in his throat, watching her finish up her meager lunch. When she was done, they stood together, the silence comfortable. Beth waited patiently as he gathered up his bow and knife, holding onto her book with both hands. Daryl walked alongside her as they wandered out to the yard. He saw a smile cross her face as the spring light hit her face, and she brought a hand up to her forehead to shield her eyes. “It’s gettin’ nice out,” she said. “Summer’ll be here soon.”

“Gonna be a hot one.” She dropped her arm, and her hand briefly brushed his. It was a light touch, just a slight warm pressure before the cool air hit his skin again. He saw her slim profile out of the corner of his eye, but he didn’t turn his head. They lapsed into silence again as they made their way to where Carol and Rick had erected a long series of cords hung from wooden poles to serve as a laundry line. It was a slight detour for him, as he’d planned on spending the rest of the afternoon trying to figure out why one of the cars was making a clicking noise and generally being a pain in the ass. Detour or not, though, Daryl wanted to spend a few more minutes with Beth.

The laundry flapped in the wind, snapping and billowing gently. Smelled nice on this side of the yard. It was close to the prison, not so close to where the walkers pressed up against the fence and growled and moaned. Maybe it was the girl next to him. Maybe it was the normal sight of clean laundry hanging out in the bright Georgia sun. Could’ve been a lot of things. But Daryl felt good for a moment, like he did those nights walking around the cell block, checking up on everybody and listening to Lil’ Asskicker’s lullabies, or Hershel’s prayers, or Carl’s muffled laughter.

Beth sighed next to him. “Always something to be done.” She ginned up at him, though, and he felt himself give a tiny smile in return. He was just about to nod a good bye before stalking off to his mechanic-corner when she reached out a hand, her small white hand just a few inches from his forearm.

“Can I tell you something?” she asks.

Daryl looks at her curiously, keeping his face blank. Her blue eyes are less calm than usual, pink lips slightly parted. She wasn't young Beth in this moment, but the woman and mother he saw earlier, all clean movement and grace, a tough woman wrapped in silky soft skin with baby blue eyes that looked harder than they did when looking after the baby. It was the way her eyes looked when she was on fence duty, hard and determined, impossible to tell how bothered she really was. He nods at her.

“I was so mad at you when you left with your brother. Couldn’t figure out why you thought you had to leave.” Her voice is soft.

He opened his mouth, not knowing what’s about to come out of himself, but Beth kept talking. “I think I know a little better now. But I think a part of me knew, even then, that you’d back.”

Daryl closed his mouth, looked at her through narrowed eyes.

“I’m real sorry about your brother. But I’m glad you’re back here, with us. It’s where you belong, I think.”

After a long moment, Beth dropped her eyes from his and turned her gaze to the laundry flapping in the wind, the walkers just beyond that fence. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say. He took a deep breath, listened to the laundry moving in the wind, almost drowning out the miserable walkers. And underneath all that, he could hear his own heartbeat.

Daryl thought for a second about reaching out his hand, considered letting himself touch her wild hair or the smooth skin on the back of her clean, white hand. He didn’t. Instead, he curled his fingers over the strap of his crossbow and watched her fidget, just a tiny bit, under his unblinking gaze.

“Beth.”

She looked over, eyes mostly calm now, steadily meeting his gaze. Her face was neutral, as though they were talking about what color the grass was. But her eyes were stormy, and he couldn’t even begin to try what she was thinking. He couldn’t think of a single thing to say, so he just nodded over her shoulder at the distant chain-link fence. “Be careful over here. Keep an eye on that fence.”

Daryl turned, already walking away. But not before he caught the half-smile on her lips, not before he memorized the tiny hand tucking a loose blond curl behind her ear.

…

Beth’s words stuck to him something fierce. Never usually had too much trouble falling asleep, but that night, Daryl felt like the morning would come before he’d ever get to closing his eyes. He read for hours, until his eyes ached and he had to shut the damn thing. He liked story, liked Robert E. Lee Prewitt, the fucked-up thirty year army man, but his eyes were killing him and he couldn’t keep his eyes open for another page.

Only trouble was, when he shut his eyes, instead of falling fast asleep, he just heard her voice. Sometimes she was singing, sometimes she was telling how mad she was. Or maybe she was talking about her book again, maybe she was talking to Lil’ Asskicker or Maggie. He couldn’t tell anymore, because his mind had been running all night and everything she’d said in the past few weeks was starting to turn into one big blur in his mind.

Daryl scrubbed his hands over his face, pressing the heels of his hands into his screwed-shut eyes for a moment, trying to force himself to sleep. But he knew it wasn’t gonna happen, so he sat back up, letting his eyes look around the darkened cell. Bow where it always was, right next to the bed. Knife next to it. Haphazard junk, strings and rags and other bullshit he'd collected, was all piled up in one corner and his meager toiletries and assortment of holey clothes stacked up in another, his freshly cleaned guns and some ammo lined up right by the entrance of his cell. A little light filtered under the raggedy blanket he had strung up as a makeshift door. _Might_ _as well go for a walk_ , he figured. Daryl had checked all the locks hours ago, before heading up to his cell, but he wasn’t about to trust that someone had double checked it or that some idiot hadn’t gone off and left something open, yawning and scratching their ass.

His mind quieted a bit after he’d pulled his jeans back on and gathered up his knife and bow. Ducking out of his cell with a huff, he made his way around down the cool, empty halls. His boots on the cement made only the barest echo, and he kept his breathing light and easy. Wasn’t the first time he’d snuck around the cell block, and it wouldn’t be the last. Wasn’t like he didn’t trust everyone, but he wasn’t about to leave any of this up to chance. They all had a part to play. Rick was the leader, Daryl was the muscle, plain and simple, and he had to keep them all safe. Otherwise, he was just nothing.

He took a quick walk around, checking all the doors and windows, eyeing the bolts that held the doors shut. After making sure everything was good, he walked past each cell, checking that all were where should be. Daryl heard the same masculine snores as always from Rick, Hershel and even Carl, who must’ve finally given them damn comics a rest for the night. He heard a sleepy sigh from Maggie and an answering grumble from Glenn; those two couldn’t knock it off, even when they were sleeping. Carol slumbered on, her snores barely audible over the creak of her rusty prison bunk. Restless sleeper, always tossing and turning. Michonne’s cell was silent as usual; woman hadn’t been back for nearly three weeks. Hoped the fool woman would be back soon, but he knew the _why_ of it, at least. Could understand why she felt she had to go out there.

Beth’s cell was the same as always: faint cooing and murmured singing, a few gasping yawns from Lil’ Asskicker, the faint sounds of Beth’s light feet pacing gracefully. And those sounds, familiar in the grey and gloomy cell block, felt just as nice to him as always. From the muffled sounds, it seemed like Jude was just about to fall asleep, lulled enough by the quiet song to slip off to sleep. So Daryl waited those last few moments, arms crossed and shoulder pressed into the wall. Still couldn’t figure out what damn song she was signing, and her voice was just quiet enough to keep him from really hearing the words. He’d never ask her what song it was, but he reckoned if he gave it enough time, he might finally figure it out.

Beth’s voice trailed off, the song disappearing into the shadows of the night and the faint hum of it hanging around Daryl’s ears. Listening to all the sounds in the dark made them feel like something happening, not just sounds in his ears. A lot of dark nights in the woods, a lifetime of them, made him think that maybe sound meant more when you couldn’t see.

He heard the rusty groan of her prison bunk and an answering human sigh from Beth. Daryl could almost see her, tired and aching from spending day and night pacing around with that little girl, climbing into bed and pulling her covers up over herself and finally getting the chance to close those blue eyes and trying to sleep away those circles they all had under their eyes. She never complained, that girl. Just carried the baby around on her tiny hip, kept her fed and safe and happy, doing all that for Lil’ Asskicker and still smiling for everyone and making people feel good.

Daryl knew he was lingering. One last look around, and he slipped back off to his grey cell. He felt well and truly tired as he looked around at the shadowy outline of his earthly belongings before rolling into bed. Crossbow was back in place, knife in reach, boots where he could slip them right back on. As he tugged the threadbare quilt over his fully clothed body, he felt like he might finally fall asleep. He still heard Beth signing in his mind, but it wasn’t troubling him like it was before. Actually felt nice, now. _Damn girl’s keeping me up nights_ , Daryl thought, but the words didn’t really have any bite to them. He pulled his thin pillow over his head and fell asleep.

And if he dreamed of tangled blonde hair and wild blue eyes, a pretty face and tiny little body that fit just right in his hands, he didn’t think too hard about it when he woke up. Couldn’t hurt to want, couldn’t hurt to keep an eye out for her. Nothing to be done for it but protect her from the walkers, the Governor, and anybody or anything else that might come along. He might want her, but more than that, he wanted her safe, and that was all there was to it.

He might never say it, but Daryl knew Beth was right. He was where he belonged. He came back when he was ready, and that was all there was to it. She had got her way. And that was enough.


	2. Chapter Two

_“Preemptive nostalgia of the possible but doubtful…_

_And always, something reminds me of you.”_

“Paper Hearts,” by Why? on the album _Mumps, Etc._

...

The light filtered dimly through the dirty window, illuminating a big wooden dresser pushed up against the wall. It had been a nice dresser, just like the rest of this whole big house was nice. Various bits of jewelry were scattered across the top of the thing, glinting weakly in the streaky light. A couple of rings, some necklaces, a handful of bracelets. Looked like some decent shit, too. Daryl had just finished rummaging through this upstairs bedroom, filling up a bag with clothes and other bullshit when the jewelry had caught his eye.

He cocked his head a bit, listening as he looked around the room. Daryl could hear Zach rummaging around in the room across the hall, muffled sounds of opening and closing dresser doors and throwing stuff around. It was just them that day, doing a sweep of a development not too far away from the prison. The place was mostly abandoned, only had to take out a few walkers earlier in the morning. They were looking for pretty much anything and everything at that point, clothes or canned goods, maybe some medicine if they were lucky. They’d brought the SUV with them, and had managed to load it up pretty well so far. Only had a few more houses to go through, then they could get back to the prison. Going by way the sun was hanging, they might actually make it back before dinner was over.

Daryl unhooked his thumb from the strap of his crossbow, let himself run his hand through the jewelry. Normally shit like this didn’t catch his eye, since you couldn’t eat it or use it to kill anybody, but there was something nice about how all this stuff looked. Mostly silver. He ran one finger over a thin silver bracelet, a small blue stone hanging off one end. He picked it up, staring at the silver coil in his palm for a moment.

“Anything good in here? That other room’s pretty much a bust. Just a bunch of papers.” Zach’s voice came from right over his shoulder, and Daryl instantly clenched his fingers around the bracelet and dropped his hand. “Oh, look at this stuff,” the kid said, and Daryl reluctantly shifted to let the kid shuffle up to the dresser. Zach picked up a necklace, a tiny bird pendent hanging off it. “Bet Beth would like this,” the kid said happily. “She lost her other necklace, you know. That heart one.”

Of course Daryl knew. She’d lost it nearly a week ago, just a few days after she’d told him how mad she’d been at him. Beth had been frantic, forcing Maggie and Glen to help her scour the cell block, even enlisting a rather reluctant Carl to search under the cafeteria tables. Daryl had been looking for it as well, but he wasn’t about to advertise the fact that he’d been pacing the cell block at night, trying to find that damn bit of silver.

Zach hadn’t kept his interest in Beth a secret. Followed the damn girl around like a puppy, offering to help her carry stuff, promising to help her find her necklace. Wasn’t really a bad kid, truth be told. Did as he was told, willing to work hard. Daryl’s hand clenched even harder all the same, though, and the tiny metal links of the bracelet dug into the skin of his hand. He silently watched the kid stuff the necklace in his jacket pocket.

The kid looked over at him, looking happier than a pig in shit. “Anything else good in here?”

“Nah,” Daryl said, keeping his features impassive. “Let’s get this shit down to th’ car.” Zach picked up his own bag, walking out the bedroom door and towards the stairs. Daryl stood still for a moment, until he heard the kid’s heavy tread on the stairs. Unclenching his fist, he dropped the bracelet back on the dresser with the rest of the scattered jewelry. He didn’t spare the room a second glance, just grabbed his bag and left the place behind.

His mood grew darker as they ransacked the last two houses. Daryl smoked cigarette after cigarette, blowing through a pack more quickly than normal. He grunted if the kid spoke to him. By the time they’d thrown the last of their haul into the car and climbed into the front seats, Daryl behind the wheel, he was more than ready to punch something. He tried to keep his mind blank, though. Didn’t think about that damn necklace in Zach’s pocket or the bracelet still sitting on that dresser, now miles behind him.

Daryl swore under his breath, feeling like a screw stuck too far into a sheet of plywood. He forced his eyes to scan the road. They had passed a few scattered walkers roaming along the road, wandering aimlessly. No herds in sight, which was good.

“Hey,” the kid said. “What did you do before?” No need to ask what the kid meant by _before_.

Daryl looked at Zach out of the corner of his eye. “Nothin’,” he ground out. Wasn’t about to play twenty questions with Romeo over there. Didn’t even want to be in same car. “What’s it to you?”

The kid laughed. “I was just thinking, if none of this had happened, I’d have graduated by now. Probably working in some office somewhere. Just curious what it was like, before all this.”

Daryl loosened his grip on the steering wheel a little and answered, against his better judgment. “Take a guess, then, college boy.” He scanned the woods to the side of the road as Zach turned a considering eye on him. Probably only a half hour from the prison, now. That development hadn’t been a bad haul. Not as much food or medicine as he and Rick had been hoping for, but a fair amount of clothes. Keep everybody warm. Most everyone was starting to look a little ragged.

After a few long moments, Zach finally ventured a guess. “Marine?”

Daryl raised an eyebrow, turning to face him. He spoke quietly, voice hard. “I look military to you?”

“I guess not…” The kid trailed off, then spoke again. “What about--”

Daryl cut him off. “Ya had your guess.”

“Next time we’re out, can I guess again?” Daryl ground his teeth together. College boy was probably trying to make a joke. Was Daryl just supposed to admit he used to work thirty hours a week at a rusted-out auto shop? That he’d made dirty money helping his brother out, and more than once? Merle didn’t come around much, but when he did, there were strings attached.

“You do that.” Daryl’s voice was grim again. Zach kept his mouth shut after that, and Daryl was grateful. Kid still seemed cheerful enough, tapping his fingers on the center console and whistling from time to time. Wasn’t about to actually do it, but he kept his mind occupied the rest of the ride thinking about ramming his fist into the kid’s gut. He knew all about hating people you didn’t really feel anything about, about feeling things that didn’t make sense together. It was easy to hate someone just as much as you didn’t give a shit about them. Zach was getting involved with Beth. None of Daryl’s business, but he let it gnaw at him all the same. Kid might be good enough for her. Might not be. Daryl wanted to be judge, jury and executioner just as much as he never wanted to think about it again.

He was still fuming a little when they pulled into the safety of the prison yard. He spied Carl and that skinny kid with glasses rambling across the yard as he got out, and slammed the door behind him a little harder than strictly necessary. “Hey, Carl. Beanpole,” he called. “Git over here.” He’d pulled his bow out of the backseat and was slinging it over his shoulder when the kids made it to the car. “Help collegeboy here get all this bullshit inside. I gotta go talk to your dad. Where’s he at?”

Carl eyed Daryl a little warily, and Beanpole looked a little scared, pushing his plastic framed glasses up his sweaty nose. Carl's hand shifted closer to his gun before he answered. “He’s over by the water pumps. Did something happen out there? Did you see--”

“Nothing happened, kid. Get to work, all of you,” he interrupted, sparing one last glare for Zach. Daryl knew he was being harsh, but he didn’t feel like being polite anymore. Been nice enough all day. He heard Carl peppering Zach with questions, but didn’t bother to listen to the kid’s responses.

He made his way across the yard, not returning anyone’s waves or greetings. Didn’t stop for anyone until he reached Rick, tinkering with the hose for the water pump. They’d found a hole in it last night, and now Rick was trying to force together two sections of cut-apart hose so he could clamp them together.

“Hey, man,” Rick said without looking up. “How’d it go today?”

Daryl watched Rick try to jam the two sections of hose together forcefully. “Fine.”

Rick’s hands never stilled, but he saw the man’s eyebrows go up a bit. “You sure?”

Daryl turned away, surveying the laundry drying not too far from where Rick was kneeling. “Just getting hard to find shit out there. Besides, I ain’t a damn babysitter.”

Rick finally looked up, setting aside the clamp he’d been wrangling with. “Is Zach causing problems? I thought you said he’d been good out there.” Daryl glanced back, and saw that Rick’s face looked hard, the cop look coming over his face. That look Rick wore back when he was in charge of things.

Turing his eyes back to the laundry, Daryl forced himself to keep from huffing out an angry sigh. “Kid’s fine. Just ain’t used to going out with strangers and kids, is all.” Daryl turned back to Rick, keeping his face flat. Wasn’t about to explain to Rick that all this was over Zach bringing home a necklace for Beth. It’d been some time since Daryl had flown off the handle. Wasn’t about to embarrass Rick and himself by going crazy over something that didn’t matter. Rick would only tell him to cool it, and to keep himself away from Beth. That’s probably what Daryl ought to do. Was letting himself get too wrapped up, and it wasn’t helping anyone. Rick had held Daryl back from fucking somebody up more than his fair share.

Rick picked the clamp back up again, eyes darting around yard, stopping on the walkers at the fence before lingering on the folks working out in the yard. “It’s definitely different around here. I’ll give you that. It’ll just take some time to get used to all these folks around. Most of ‘em don’t know what it’s really been like out here. Got too used to Woodbury.”

Daryl grunted in reply. He watched Rick fumbling for a minute, the man swearing under his breath as he failed to jam one bit of hose inside the other yet again. “Ya know, all that’d go in a lot easier if you just git some Vaseline on the hose.”

Rick just looked at him for a moment, then started laughing. And after a minute, Daryl just started laughing, too.

…

It was nearly pitch black in the showers, but his eyes adjusted easily to the perpetually damp room so he didn't bother with any sort of light. He’d taken a late watch shift, still feeling off about the day’s excursion with Zach and was in no mood for any of the Woodbury people or seeing Beth with her new necklace. College boy had probably tripped all over himself to put it on her.Daryl had thought taking watch was the easy way out. When he’d finished up, though, he was still wound tighter than a spring. Figured it wouldn’t hurt to take a shower, since it was late enough for most everyone to be in bed for the rest of the night. He did a quick scan of the place, making sure it was really empty. He finally settled his stuff on an unoccupied bench and started stripping down. Shooting one last look at the shower room door, he stepped under the spray.

The lukewarm water was nice enough, especially after having nothing at all for a while there. It’d taken a lot of work to get all this up and running again. The water made him feel a little better, working at the tightness in his back, washing away some of the anger he was feeling. He rubbed a hand over the back of his neck, trying to breathe deeply. He’d felt better after talking with Rick, but he still felt like there was something hanging on his back.

Beth never said anything to him about their conversation out by the laundry line. She was just the same as ever, smiling and friendly. Wasn’t like she treated him different than anybody else in here. She was always just nice like that, nice to everybody. Looked out for Carl and Lil’ Asskicker and the other kids. Wanted Rick and Maggie and all them to feel _good_ , like maybe they could make this work out. She’d wanted Daryl to know she was sorry about Merle, and that he was back where he was needed.

Trouble was, a part of him wanted Beth to be different with him. Didn’t want to be just like Rick or Glenn to her. He knew she was none of his business, beyond that she was a part of his group, but he just felt something about her tugging at him. Daryl wasn’t really sure what he even wanted from her. Just liked looking at her, seeing that soft look on her face when she held Jude. Felt proud of the way she could kill walkers without blinking, then go right inside, wash up, and go on taking care of all those kids or sing some song while cutting up vegetables, all without missing a beat. Just seeing her had always felt like enough. Until now.

He squeezed his eyes shut as he rinsed his hair, trying to keep his mind blank. Daryl wasn’t sure when he’d picked that habit up, but it kept him from losing his mind too much. It never made him feel good, all those times he lost his cool and had to be held back. He just didn’t know what else to do, sometimes. Often, in those blank minutes, he’d see Merle as a walker, see himself stabbing his brother in the face over and over again, crying like a fucking bitch. Something about that sobered him up quick. It made him think that being a Dixon didn’t have to mean flying off the handle. Didn’t have to mean never thinking before going off and tearing things apart. This wasn’t the same world. Nothing was the same, least of all Daryl, and he didn’t want to be the man he used to be.

He hadn’t been this unhinged over a girl since he was twenty-three and dating the waitress at the diner near a muffler repair joint he used to work at. He would drink a lot in those days, and she was good to look at. Daryl chased after her for months, buying her drinks and taking her out for rides. Couldn’t remember why they broke up. But he remembered the _after_ , when he spent three days drunk out of his mind and throwing empty beer cans at the targets in his backyard. Thinking about it for a minute, Daryl realized that all that had happened more than ten years ago. His back cracked as he stretched his arms above his head, letting the last bit of warm water finish its work. Daryl slumped forward, feeling older than he had in a while. He hadn't noticed at first, but the water had started to run cold, making his skin felt tight. The arrow scar on his side, from when that damn horse nearly killed him, ached worse than it had in a long while. Even the scars on his back, ones he sometimes managed to forget about, throbbed under the cold water. Daryl stood under the cold water for a moment, one hand stretched behind his back, fingers absently tracing the smooth lines and knotted lumps of scar tissue. Strange how, with no one really seeing them or knowing about them or his dad, he'd managed to forget about them for a while. One blunt and cracked fingernail scraped against his enflamed skin and he cursed, yanking his hand away. He twisted the water off roughly.

He toweled off quickly, not wanting to risk anybody coming in while he was still in there. He put his clothes on in a hurry too, suddenly feeling dog tired. Daryl took his time walking back to his cell, though, checking the doors and locks and making sure everyone was in their proper cells. Whole place was quiet that night, just the sounds of sleep and groaning bunks. Beth’s cell was even quiet, just soft breathing from both the girls.

He still hadn’t found that damn necklace, either. In the past week, he had found himself scanning the floors at all hours of the day, hoping it had just been overlooked and was lying around somewhere. Beth always wore the thing, and he’d overheard Maggie telling Glenn that it had been a gift from her parents when she turned sixteen. Daryl kept hoping it’d turn up for her, but he was starting to think it wasn’t likely. Sometimes, especially in this world, things just went missing and there was nothing to be done for it. It stung him something fierce.

He climbed into bed, feeling all of his thirty-five years at one time. In the familiar grey of his cell, he reckoned that maybe it wasn’t such a bad thing Zach had brought her back the necklace. Beth could probably use with something pretty. And if it had to come from that whistling kid, happy-go-lucky collegeboy, then so be it. Wasn’t like Daryl brought her anything back. And it wasn’t his place to do that for her. He wasn’t her daddy, wasn’t her boyfriend, wasn’t her brother. Wasn’t made to be any of those things in the first place. Daryl could keep doing what he’d been up to. All he had to do was keep an eye on her, and keep his distance.

...

Daryl spent the next day out in the yard with Rick, who was starting to turn into a regular Farmer Joe. Carol joined them for part of the morning, which didn’t surprise Daryl since she seemed to have a finger in most everything going on around the prison. Rick and Carol chatted a lot about their plans for things, but Daryl mostly listened. The way he saw it, he wasn’t much for planning the interior of the place or figuring out how to keep everybody happy and organized. He saw himself as doing what needed to be done on the outside. World had always been broken up by who you were and what you could do. It had turned out he wasn’t bad at killing walkers, going on runs or hunting, and that was the sort of person Rick needed around here. And it felt good to be useful, as opposed to just redneck trash. He didn’t much care for the farming, but he didn’t have to do it all that often and Daryl would much rather be helping Rick out than stuck inside cleaning or some shit like that.

“I don’t think Carl’s been going to them classes Carol’s been doing,” Rick said, late in the afternoon. They’d been working mostly in silence since Carol had gone in to gather up the kids for a lesson. “I don’t know if I can make him go.”

Daryl took a break from digging rocks out a partially cleared patch of dirt. “Probably can’t.” He looked steadily at Rick, who looked a little lost.

“His mother would’ve wanted him to go. She wanted things to be as normal as possible. Lori wouldn’t want to see him bein’ like this.” Rick rubbed the back of a dirty hand across his forehead. He sighed and jammed his shovel into the ground a couple of times.

Daryl was silent for a minute, thinking about the way Beth liked to keep things normal. Daryl wasn’t sure how much he thought of Lori, knew without anyone saying it that she and Rick had their problems, and never much considered what she had been up to while she was alive. But, as far as mothers went, she wasn’t bad, especially given what they were all living in. Beth and Lori, anybody that helped keep the inside of the prison together and giving out hope while holding onto a baby, folks like that needed people like Daryl and Rick, and maybe someday Carl. Daryl thought back to the comforting sound of familiar lullabies spilling from Beth’s lips and Lil’ Asskicker’s answering chatter. Maybe, at the end of it all, in a place like this, you couldn’t really have one without the other.

“Carl could probably stand to go to Carol’s classes.” Daryl pulled a crumpled pack of cigarettes from his pocket and shook one out. “But Carl ain’t a kid.” He put the cigarette between his lips and lit it, taking a long drag before fixing his gaze on the sheriff. “He knows what’s out there and he ain’t about to forget. Not a bad thing, Rick.”

Rick seemed to slump a bit at that, but kept his eyes on the spot he'd planted just this morning. “I just want something different for him.”

“Me too, man,” he replied quietly, and by tacit agreement, he and Rick resumed their work. Wanting something different, wanting the impossible. None of that was a mystery to Daryl.

Rick was thoughtful for the rest of the day, not talking much as they cleared out their patch of dirt and prepped it for planting. Didn’t bother Daryl none that they kept to themselves, as it seemed like everyone always had plenty to think about. He wasn’t in any position to tell Rick what to do with Carl, he could only say what he saw. He’d said his mind, and Rick could figure out what was best on his own. Rick was like a brother to him, and not a shit brother like Merle had been, blood or not.

Strange enough, he wondered if he might be able to talk with Rick about the dark thoughts eating at the back of his mind. Daryl wondered how Rick would react if he said something about Beth Greene, how looking at her made him feel like he was laying out in the grass under a bright morning sun, like the warmth he felt was something that went all the way inside, not just on the skin.

Wanting a woman was nothing new, and he had nothing special to say about that. And nothing new with not wanting any other man around her. But Beth was young. And for Daryl, the urge to touch her, possess her, be a _man_ with her was tangled in with the desire to simply stand back and watch her, like touching her might ruin that pretty picture, might take it all away. And underneath all that, he couldn’t fathom a world where she’d even want his hands on her like that. Beth cared about people, and if she was especially good to him, it was born out her need to be good to those who needed it. Like being good to Carl after his ma died. He was wrong for thinking of anything more than that.

Thoughts of Beth always circled back to the same thing: he had to keep his distance. Keep an eye out, but that was it. And he couldn’t figure out why he had to keep reminding himself of that.

He and Rick went in for dinner when Carol waved them in. When he entered the cafeteria, Daryl was unable to stop his eyes from doing a quick scan, and he relaxed when he saw Beth sitting at a table, wedged between her sister and her dad, and that Zach was a few tables over with some Woodbury people. Not only that, but Beth wasn’t wearing any necklace. As he dug into his dinner, he eyed college boy speculatively and tried to figure out if the kid actually looked a bit pissed or if that was just his imagination taking over. He had to force himself to join in the conversation between Rick and Carol, feign an interest in the lesson plans Carol was talking about. Of course, from what Daryl could see, Rick’s mind was still out with his crops, and Carol was getting a little exasperated, judging by the set of her mouth. Couldn’t strictly blame Carol, either. Rick _was_ getting a little wrapped up in his farm. He’d spent all morning talking about livestock. Daryl decided it was probably best to keep his mouth shut and make a hasty exit to his mechanic-corner and enjoy his solitude. Didn’t like being put in the middle of those two.

Daryl did just that after wolfing down the rest of his meal. Carol’s portion was barely touched, and Rick’s had been abandoned for the moment. Deciding not to draw any attention to himself, he settled for slinking out while he could, grabbing his dishes and crossbow with all the stealth he could manage, picking a moment when the pair was pretty engaged. Growing up in confined spaces with a bunch of assholes had taught him a thing or two about getting the fuck out of dodge.

Beth noticed him though, a smile crossing her face as he walked past her table. He nodded back at her. Their eyes locked for a minute, before he let his slide away, checking where Hershel and Maggie were looking. He felt better when he realized their eyes were on Glenn, who was fiddling with that damn camera again. Something that felt an awful lot like guilt gnawed at his stomach at that. He didn’t look back, though, and decided he wasn’t about to think on that right then.

The days were starting to get longer, so it was still pretty light out by the time he made it to his corner of the yard. He felt better in the comfortably familiar sprawl of tools and supplies. He’d finally managed to push everything from his mind, and Daryl had resolved to work on his motorcycle. Wanted to get the oil changed up, clean up some of the grease, give the thing a once over. Thing would only run well if he took care of it, and he didn't need to get stuck up shit crick without a paddle. The fact that it was all he had of Merle didn't hurt, either. He hated his brother, hated the way he’d run off time after time, leaving him with his dad, or just plain alone. Hated that even when he was around, the drugs and drinking and troublemaking kept him from really being around. Didn’t mean, though, that he didn’t miss his brother, didn’t want to keep something of him around. Dixons might not talk about love, but they were blood, and the words didn’t have to be bandied about for them to matter.

While he was working, he started thinking more about getting a big group together to hit up that big store a ways out. Going on these small runs, hitting up house after house, wasn’t working. It was dangerous to try to tame an entire neighborhood, running in and out of houses. And there was never any guarantee that any of those houses had anything in them. Going to the big store might be more of an initial danger, because he had no idea what might be inside. But clearing out one location would be the easiest option. It’d be a place with a pretty bit reserve of supplies, too. Realistically, they could keep using it for a while. The biggest challenge, in Daryl’s mind, was figuring out how many people should go, and who that group should be. Michonne might show up soon, but she might not. Never knew what to expect with her, except that she wanted the Governor dead, and with good reason. Men like that never stopped. And anybody that had had any pull over Merle had to be a sick son of a bitch.

Once the bike was all cleaned up to his satisfaction, it was heading on full dark. Daryl felt stiff from being hunched over the garden with Rick all day, and when he stood up, he stretched his arms over his hands, trying to work out the aches in his shoulders and back. The air was a bit cool on his bare arms, but he wasn’t bothered by it. Felt nice, really, after being out in the sun all day. He let his arms fall, running a dirty hand through the hair at the back of his head. His mind was quiet as he gathered up all his tools, putting them back in their cases, loosely organized in a way that he’d been honing for years.

The moon was coming out bright that night as it got darker, falling on the nearby walkers. Crowd was starting to get a little big, and he knew he’d be spending the next day killing off as many of them as he could. Wasn’t his favorite job, but it had to be done. It was better than being on the same side of the fence as all those walkers, and that’s what would happen if the herd got too big and knocked down that fence. He grunted in annoyance as he surveyed them, wiping down a wrench with his rag. When he was done, he carefully closed his cases and gave his bike one last look, one side of his mouth pulling up in something resembling a smile.

Daryl had only gone a few feet away from his personal junk yard when a tiny gleam of light on the pavement caught his eye. He narrowed his eyes, then crouched, not really believing what he saw just in front of his own feet.

A heart shaped pendent, one small heart inside of another, was inches from his scuffed boots. He shook his head as he reached out to pick up. Damn charm was so tiny he had to pinch the stupid thing to pick it up. He frowned a bit when he saw the pendent hadn’t help up too well out here. The two little heart-shaped bits were separating, a little bent away from each other. How many times had he walked out here, probably stepped on the damn thing, driven his motorcycle or dragged something heavy over it? Daryl hadn't really been looking for it outside and not at all on this end of the yard. He didn’t see the chain anywhere nearby, and the damn thing was probably broken. Daryl applied a bit of gentle pressure to the smaller heart, trying to get it to line up with the bigger one. He’d barely touched it when it snapped away, the two hearts now separated. “Motherfucker,” he cursed under his breath, examining the two pieces. He noticed that even the loop to string the chain through was missing. He had the sudden thought that the delicate thing was about to wear away into dust just from being in his hands, and he had to smile a bit at that.

Wrapping his rag around the two broken halves of the pendent, he stood up and carefully put the bundle in his pocket. Somewhere over in his junkyard, in one of his cases, he had quite a bit of black leather cord. Might not be silver, but it’d be sturdier in the long run. Daryl only had to rummage around for a short while before he found what he was looking for with his collection of spark plugs. He shoved the tangled length cord into his other pocket. It was getting on full dark at that point, and he’d do better in the prison where he could maybe sit at a table and use some light.

There were still some people up and about. Pauline, the woman from the kitchens whose husband had been a hunter, was sitting with a couple of other women, apparently mending some clothes. He hoped none of his stuff was in that pile. Daryl had all his stuff the way he wanted it and didn’t need anyone trying to fix it and making a mess of it. Pauline waved at him when she caught sight of him, and he nodded back, ducking his head when she smiled at him and feeling that familiar warmth on the back of his neck.

He headed off to his cell, where he figured he could string the necklace together in private. Last thing he needed was anyone thinking he was taking an interest in jewelry making. Daryl sat on the edge of his bunk, grumbling under his breath as he tried to untangle enough cord for a necklace from the knotted ball. He spent an awful long time picking at the ball of leather string with his nails and going cross-eyed from staring at the little knots that kept appearing. He was starting to feel mighty irritable, but by the time he had a cord long enough, he felt a lot less tense. After cutting the cord with his knife and tossing the rest of the tangled cord into a corner of cell, Daryl fished his rag out of his pocket. He opened it up carefully, not wanting to drop either of the little hearts. He polished them up, and he felt relieved to see they weren’t too scratched up from their time outdoors.

At first, Daryl just strung the hearts onto the cord, figuring he could just do a couple a sliding knots and leave well enough alone. He held the necklace up to the limited light in his cell, making sure it hung okay. The two silver hearts jangled together a bit as he did that, a real soft noise, the soft yellow light dancing on the rocking hearts. Frowning a bit, Daryl considered the noise. Quiet, maybe, but maybe not quiet enough. If a walker were new enough, hungry enough, that little bit of noise might be all it’d need to catch wind of her. He looped the cord, tying a quick knot around one heart, then the other, anchoring them to a set part of the cord and keeping them just far enough apart that they wouldn’t make any noise at all. Daryl finished it off by tying a couple of sliding knots. He held it up again, watching the swing and sway of the hearts for a minute. Didn’t look too bad, but it sure as shit didn’t look good. Hopefully Beth was one of those girls that didn’t mind the homemade look.

Daryl stood suddenly, balling the red rag around the makeshift necklace before stuffing it into his pocket. He felt some strange, restless energy running through him. The necklace was burning a hole in his pocket, making him feel foolish for reasons that he didn’t want to consider. It was still pretty early. He could just hand it over to her and never think about it again. Maybe she wouldn’t even be in her cell yet. He could just leave it there and that would be that.

He looked around his cell for a moment, feeling lightheaded like he’d just drunk a 40, and too quickly at that. Judging by the hushed chatter he heard floating around the cell block, it was getting on pretty late, and people would be getting to bed soon. Might be too late to be going visiting. Especially with the necklace.

Daryl groaned a bit, sitting back down. He kicked off his boots and laid back in bed, still fully dressed. Stared up at the ceiling, counting cracks until everything was silent. He’d do his rounds and then he’d go back to bed. He’d decide what to do with the necklace in the morning.


	3. Chapter Three

Daryl woke up with a crick in his neck from staring at the ceiling for too long and grit in his eyes from lack of sleep, still fully dressed. Forcing himself up and out of bed, he shoved his boots on, yanking on the shoestrings and tying them into double knots. He grabbed the front of his shirt, lifting it to his nose, and sniffed. Could probably get another day out of it, considering he wasn’t doing anything but killing walkers today, anyways. He shrugged his vest on and gathered up his bow and a couple knives, stowing them in a couple of different pockets, just in case. It’d probably be a pretty quiet day around the prison, like most of the days had been lately, but he wasn’t about to take any chances. All his steel wouldn’t do a damn bit of good sitting pretty in his cell.

He left his red rag in his pocket, still wrapped around Beth’s restrung necklace. Still hadn’t figured out what to do with it yet. It’d bothered him all night, and when he did a walk of the cellblock late that night, he’d nearly just tossed it into her cell. Only thing that stopped him was the fear the noise would wake her up and she’d catch him running down the cell block like some sort of asshole. Daryl hadn’t flung something at a girl since elementary school, and he wasn’t about to start repeating the experience now.

A few folks were up and moving around the prison, from what he could hear. It was still early yet, and when he pushed his door hanging out of the way, he saw the whole place was lit up with a pale yellow light streaking in through the windows. He made his way down to the bathroom, hearing all the sounds of people slowly waking up: Glenn’s grumbling, Hershel’s creaks and sighs, Carl’s dead-to-the-world snores, Judith’s giggles and happy cries. Daryl nearly stopped at Beth’s cell just then, more than ready to just hand the damn thing off, but he heard Carol’s voice talking to Lil’ Asskicker from behind Beth’s curtain, and that was enough to send him on his way. Last thing he needed was Carol seeing and asking questions. The damn woman always saw and said too much.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, he headed out to do a quick perimeter check. It was still a little cool out in the mornings, so he jogged a bit as he checked the fences and gates. One side of the fence had quite a few walkers piling up, and he figured that’s where he’d be spending the morning, trying to get rid of as many of them as he could. Depending on her mood, he figured he could ask Carol to help him out. She’d been getting tough since they’d been at the prison, willing to do the harsh things more and more. She wanted to face everything now, it seemed. Never used to be like that, and he was proud of her.

A few people were sitting in the cafeteria by the time he got in there, a yawning Rick sitting with a fuzzy headed Carol. Beth was there, too, Judith in her arms, sitting right across from Carol and Rick. Grabbing a bowl of oatmeal and ignoring any buzzing in the back of his mind, he sat down with the rest of the group, careful to keep a respectful distance between him and Beth. He nodded at the group before digging in. Everyone was pretty quiet, still waking up. Judith chattered a little bit, making eyes at Daryl and Rick as they ate, cooing up at Beth, who was managing to eat and hold onto Lil’ Asskicker pretty easily. Beth would talk to the girl quietly from time to time, smiling down at her with that soft look in her eyes. The morning light was pale and made Beth’s skin glow, lighting up her tangle of clean hair all pulled up in a ponytail. She still wasn’t wearing that bird necklace Zach had grabbed for her on that last run with Daryl. Maybe the kid hadn’t given it to her yet. Or maybe Beth had told the kid to just go to hell already.

Not fucking likely.

Rick nodded over at the two girls, his eyes on Judith. “Hey, Beth. Why don’t you give me Judith for the day? I gotta spend the day in the library anyways, might as well have my girl keep me company.” He stood and held his hands out for his daughter, smiling at the pair. “You probably could use with a break.”

Beth stood as well, hoisting the girl with a single strong arm. “Here you go,” she said, leaning over Daryl to hand Judith into Rick’s waiting arms. He felt the brush of her small hip against his shoulder and he shifted away, mostly out of habit, but he didn’t move too far and caught the scent of her, something floral and a touch of clean baby, all mixed in with some vital and raw human scent, something that made the blood rush in his ears. He kept his eyes on the congealing oatmeal in front of him, the smell still lingering as Beth sat back down next to him. He barely noticed Rick taking off towards the library.

Daryl looked up when he knew his face wasn’t betraying anything and met Carol’s eyes. He felt better when he saw nothing out of the ordinary in them, no questions or raised brows. “What are you up to today?” he asked her.

“Pauline and I are going through the kitchen this morning. Want to get a proper inventory going. We never got to properly organizing it, and with the number of people we’re trying to feed, we want to make sure everything’s in place. It’d make it easier to figure out what we need, what we’re running out of.”

He hmm’d a response, before going on to say, “I was gonna see if you wanted to help me take down some walkers at the fence.”

Before Carol had a chance to reply, Beth spoke up. “I can help you. I’ve got nothing going on, now that Rick’s got Judy.”

Daryl opened his mouth, but didn’t really have a damn thing to say. He snapped his mouth shut and looked at her wide blue eyes, nodding. “Sure,” he mumbled, before going back to his oatmeal. Carol looked pleased that everything was sorted out, so at least that was something.

They all finished up their meals in relative quiet before heading off for their day, Carol heading off into the kitchen and leaving Daryl and Beth in silence. After taking care of their dishes, Daryl led her out to the yard, over to a bin where they kept weapons and gear. He remembered she’d not really been on fence duty for a while. Everyone had been off doing other things since all the people from Woodbury showed up, usually just leaving her to take care of the baby or other household shit. He wondered how she felt about that, if she felt stuck or if she didn’t mind. He knew she loved that little girl, because it was written plainly all over her face. But didn’t mean she didn’t want to be out doing more, or just doing something different from time to time. He watched silently as she gathered up her gear and threw an apron on over her clothes.

“Can’t imagine this is what you’d like to be gettin’ up to on a day off,” Daryl said, studying her face as she pulled her hair out of its loose ponytail before pulling back tightly, sweeping tendrils away from her face and off her shoulders. That hard look was coming into her eyes again, that one she always wore when working on the fences. It’d never been just them out here before, they’d always been out here with a few others. Felt strange to be paired up with her for something like this.

“I don’t mind,” she said, as they both grabbed the heavy crowbars. “It’s good to be useful, anyways. Don’t like sitting around too much.” Out of the corner of his eye, Daryl saw her looking over at him, brow furrowed. After a moment, she spoke again. “You ever get sick of having kill walkers all the time?”

Daryl thought a moment, looking out at the fence that loomed before them and all the walkers trying to get in and have a go at them. _Ain’t gonna happen_ , he silently told them, fixing his stare on them. _I’ll get you ‘fore I let you get us._

“Guess not,” he finally replied, flicking his eyes over to her. “Killin’ walkers don’t mean much. Dangerous, sometimes. But ya just do it anyways.” Beth’s eyes felt heavy on him, and he made himself meet her eyes. They were bright blue, like always, but there was a look in them Daryl had never seen before. It was almost appraising, like she was trying to sort out something about him. Wasn’t like a judgment, though. Her eyes weren’t cold or hard, and she didn’t look like that timid girl he’d seen on her daddy’s farm. Beth didn’t look like anybody’s momma, either. With that crowbar held tight in her small hands and that look on her face, she looked like something fierce, something that could burn a man up with one touch. Daryl couldn’t figure out what she was trying to sort out, looking at him like that. Finally beginning to feel antsy under her baby blues, he turned the question back on her. “You ever get sick of having to take care of Lil’ Asskicker?”

They had reached the outer fence by the time she answered, and the walkers started really getting worked up, moaning and reaching out in earnest for the two of them. “I always wanted to be a momma. Didn’t reckon I’d be so young and that she wouldn’t be mine,” she said, wryly. “But I’m glad to be takin’ care of her. Carol said I’d get a chance of my own, someday. But I don’t know that I will, or if I could even take that chance if it came knockin’, even if I want to.” Her eyes met his when she said that, and Daryl saw she was wearing her mother-eyes again, saw the change in her body that always overtook her when she had that Judith in her arms, made her look like the perfect woman, steel under all that softness. “Just ‘cause we got a little girl with us don’t mean that the world’s all better now, even though I can almost forget when I’m with her. I gotta remind myself, and that’s why I’m out here. I ain’t strong like everybody, like Maggie. But I gotta know what I’m up against.”

“You’re strong,” he said, taking her measure from blonde ponytail, down to strong arms, thin waist and long legs and scuffed up cowboy boots, so small and delicate looking compared to her sister. “Ya ain’t gotta be like Maggie to be strong. Can’t say if you’ll get a chance of your own or if ya should take it, but I reckon you’ve got a chance now and you’re makin’ do. More’n that.”

Daryl saw the blush starting on her cheeks, felt it in his guts. He looked down for a moment, at the hands he had wrapped around the crowbar, sun-dark skin and dirty nails, little cuts and scars littered across his hands, ones he couldn’t remember getting. “Well,” he finally said, looking up at her through the hair falling across his face, “Ready to get to work?”

Beth rolled her eyes. “Ready as I’ll ever be.” She shifted the crowbar in her hands, getting a feel for it. He knew without looking that her eyes would be hard again, all that softness melting away and bleeding out. She was a tough girl. Beth could do what had to be done.

They stuck pretty close to each other, Daryl keeping an eye on Beth. She’d talk to him, telling him about how Judy was doing, cute tales of smiling at the ribbon mobile her and Maggie had put together for the baby’s bassinet, or stories about being kept up all night by a fussy baby in no mood to be sung to, fed, changed, or played with. Beth’s stories made him feel better about spending hours stabbing walkers through their decaying eye sockets. She talked about other things, too, and was more observant than she ever let on, more than anyone gave her credit for. She mentioned offhand that Carol had been getting really busy with her lessons for those kids. She said it was real good that Michonne had been bringing back Carl those comics. Rick was doing real good with all that farming, and she hoped he’d find a spot to plant some more sugar snap peas. Glenn was fooling around with his camera again, taking pictures of everything that moved and catching everybody at bad angles. Maggie was a real neat freak when it came to that engagement ring, getting all worked up anytime something got stuck on it, even just a bit of fuzz. That last one struck Beth as especially funny, because Maggie hadn’t been known for being too neat when they were kids, always leaving her clothes everywhere, losing her hairbrush and stealing Beth’s.

She saw all the little things, he noticed. Beth cared about what made people happy. And she was finding her way of saying that everybody was pulling themselves back together after the hard times that had been haunting them lately. _That’s_ what she cared about. She was a little like her daddy in that she wasn’t just about just barely surviving and filling your belly. They were about the heart of things, what made people good or bad or just empty. They were about _being_ good, and making what happiness and hope they could.

They took it pretty easy, figuring they had a while to be out there. Daryl didn’t want to be wearing her out, and he was enjoying listening to her. She didn’t ask too many questions, and didn’t seem to mind that he mostly kept quiet. Beth would look over at him and smile, and he figured she knew he was listening, even if he didn’t have anything special to say. It was strange how comfortable it all felt. Wasn’t like it was the first time he’d talked to her. But it was the most time he’d spent alone with her all at once, and given how on edge he’d been since she told him how mad he’d made her, it was easier than he reckoned it’d be.

They lapsed into silence after a while, just the sounds of the walkers, the wet sucking sounds of the crowbar as it went into a walker skull before getting yanked out again. He could hear her breathing, the quiet grunts and sighs she made as she worked, sometimes humming broken bits of that melody she’d been singing for the past couple weeks. The sounds she made, whether it was talking or singing or just the sounds of hard work, it all felt nice to him. Daryl felt warm, and it was like he’d been thinking the other day: Beth Greene was like lying out in the sun and feeling it all the way to your bones. Not hot, not like being stuck outside in a heat wave with no water. Just warm, all the way through.

By the time they’d finished off all the walkers at the fence, the sun was getting near to the center of the sky. They’d had a couple of breaks, resting their arms and moving to different parts of the fence until they were all taken care of. Daryl was starting to get a little sweaty, hair sticking a bit to his forehead. He dug around for his handkerchief before remembering it was wrapped around Beth’s necklace in his front pocket. Figures the only thing that could make him forget about the fucking thing would be the girl it belonged to. He watched her for a moment as she shed her apron and tucked their crowbars back away with the rest of the makeshift walker-killing tools they’d collected.

“Saw college boy brought you something back, last run.” Beth glanced over at him sharply at that, although he noticed she kept her features even, only a little bit of something crossing over her face, though what he couldn’t say. He kept himself real still, waiting for her to answer.

“Yeah. He wanted to get me something to replace my old necklace.” She pursed her lips a bit, tucking an errant blonde curl behind her ear. “I guess I still haven’t given up hope the old one’s gonna show up somewhere.” A small smile formed on her lips before she continued, “Probably silly of me, really.”

“Nah,” he said. Daryl tucked a hand into his pocket, trying to decide if he was too chicken shit to hand it to her right then. Something a lot like Merle’s voice growled in the back of his mind, asking him if he’d had his balls taken off by a walker or if he was just born a pussy. Gritting his teeth, he pulled the rumpled rag out of his pocket, shaking the necklace out into his open palm. Beth’s brow was furrowed at first, her pink lips parted in surprise and he caught a flash of her tongue. Her eyes darted between the necklace coiled up in his palm and his face, a wide smile working its way across her flushed face. “Found it last night, out by my bike and all my shit.”

At first, he found it easier to look down at the necklace rather than at her happy and surprised face. Then, as she picked it up, her tiny hands gentle as they hovered over his big, dirty palm, he started feeling uneasy and looked at some odd space over her right shoulder instead. “I should’ve just let you string it on somethin’, but I figure I probably broke the chain somehow, dragging stuff around out there, and that’s probably how thing got bent to shit, too. Least I could do is fix it up.”

“Oh, my…” she breathed, slender fingers holding onto the necklace like it’d disappear. She ran one finger over the big heart, then over the smaller heart. Beth looked up at him, and he met her gaze. “I thought I’d never see it again.”

Beth’s eyes started looking a little shiny, like she was going to cry, and Daryl started feeling really uneasy. She looked so young in that moment, more little girl than woman. But she just pulled the necklace over her head, the cord getting stuck in her hair for a minute before it finally hung around her neck, the heart charms coming to rest against the breastbone. He didn’t have to squint to see he’d hung them a little crooked.

“Thank you,” she said, and her eyes were clear again. Beth touched her fingertips to his bicep briefly, and he couldn’t stop the damn shiver that spread under his skin. After she pulled her hand from his arm, her fingers found their way to the leather cord and silver charms hanging against her chest, sliding over the leather and worrying the silver charms between her thumb and forefinger. Daryl’s eye caught on the bit of collarbone exposed by her blouse, the black of the leather stark against her pale skin, only a little flushed. He met her eyes, and she looked peaceful again. She looked less tired, her smile a little fuller.

“It’s nothin’,” he finally managed. Daryl watched her fingers run over the necklace, studying the way it fell across the curve of her chest, the red staining her cheeks and the fall of hair coming down over one shoulder. Beth had that look in her eyes again, that look that was hard but not cold, that look she’d been wearing that day out by the laundry, and just this morning as they were walking out here. He was trying to find some way to ask her what she’d been doing out by his part of the yard in the first place, trying to find some way to put all the damn questions he’d been trying not to think about into words. Why did she have to tell him she was pissed at him? What was that damn song she’d been humming for over a week now? And how’d she manage to lose her necklace over on his side of the yard in the first place?

She was silent too, just looking at him with those big eyes that he couldn’t figure out how to read any more. Not since he brought her back that damn book. They might’ve been standing there for days, just staring at each other, for all Daryl knew. Maybe he was wrong. Maybe he _was_ a fool, thinking too much about Beth Greene for his own good.

Finally, Carl’s voice broke the strange moment, calling them in for lunch. She gave him one last smile, fingers still curled around her necklace, before heading off inside. His own fingers mimicked hers, curling around the strap of his crossbow, and he followed her inside, always just a few steps away from her.

…

Daryl spent the afternoon with Sasha and Tyrese spent the afternoon taking care of the walker corpses, using a truck and flatbed trailer to get them a ways from the prison so they could be burned. Between the three of them, it was pretty quick work. The siblings seemed to get on well, knowing without looking what the other was up to. They worked hard, too. More than the other people from Woodbury, they were earning their place at the prison. The two of them didn’t shy away from the hard shit, didn’t complain, offered to help whenever they saw something needed doing. They could be trusted to help out with watch, and were each pretty handy with weapons. Working with them meant Daryl had some time before dinner to get washed up and work on cleaning up his crossbow, checking the string and making sure the bolts were all in good working order.

Dinner was quiet, until Maggie noticed Beth’s necklace. A bunch of them were all at a long table, the original group and a few extras, including Sasha, Tyrese, and Zach, who’d somehow managed to get a seat right next to Beth.

“You found your necklace!” Maggie exclaimed. “Where was it?”

Beth’s right hand came up, tugging on the smaller heart and smiling. Her eyes flickered over to Daryl for a moment and he froze, nearly choking on a bite of biscuit. “It was out in the yard,” she finally answered, looking back at Maggie. “The chain broke, but I reckon I was asking for it, with the way I was always pulling on it. This’ll hold up better,” she said, giving the cord an experimental tug.

“I’m glad it turned up for you, Bethy,” Hershel said, patting Beth’s hand and smiling, and the girl smiled back at him.

Daryl finally managed to swallow the biscuit when Maggie started talking about something else. His eyes kept going back to Beth, who was watching her sister talk, keeping pretty quiet as usual. And in watching Beth, he couldn’t help but notice that Zach was sitting awful close, letting his arm brush against hers, and probably his leg under the damn table, too. Daryl sawed at his meal, shoving food into his mouth with less grace than usual.

Just as he’d shoved a rather large piece of meat into his mouth, Beth turned her head and smiled at Daryl for a quick minute, her warm eyes snagging on his. He felt that heat crawling up his face, and he struggled mightily to chew normally. By the time she looked away, turning back to the conversation going on at her end of the table with a faint smile still on those pink lips, he was feeling like his throat was made of sandpaper and the rabbit meat in his mouth had turned to rubber. Finally swallowing, he guessed he better start using some table manners or risk getting laughed at for choking on his own goddamn catch.

Daryl spent the rest of the meal feeling grateful she’d kept her mouth shut about him being the one to find her necklace and fix it. Last thing he needed was the entire prison knowing about it. Didn’t need anyone thinking he was doing arts and crafts with Beth. Wasn’t any of their business if he found it and hung a broken set of hearts on a bit of leather just had laying around.

He ducked down to the library after dinner, figuring on doing a bit of reading. He sprawled on the dusty couch they’d put in there, halfheartedly flipping through some car manuals before picking up that book Beth had picked out for him. Daryl ended up reading for a couple hours, not really caring that it might not be the best use of his time. Everybody could use with a little time to themselves every once in a while, reasoned. He’d been with people all day, and it was starting to grate on him. Beth had his brain running everyway but right, and it was eating at his patience for everyone else. So he enjoyed kicking his boots up on the ragged upholstery, throwing one arm over his head, and propping the book up on his sternum, and just read until the natural light faded. Wasn’t too often he made time for this sort of thing, but Daryl figured finding and repairing Beth’s necklace was enough of a good deed to earn him a few hours of solitude. When it got too dark to read without turning on any of the lights, he shuffled off to the main part of the prison, figuring he’d take a quick lap of the prison and the yard before seeing what Rick was up to.

Daryl had just made his way out to the main part of the yard and was about to light up a cigarette when a pair of familiar voices caught his attention. His thumb stilled on his Zippo, the thing only half open, cigarette sagging against his lip, and he swiveled his head around.

Beth and Zach were a ways away at the picnic table, sitting next to each other and staring out at the fence, oblivious to his presence behind them. He took a few quiet steps into a gloomy corner, not really thinking much about the why, just figuring it’d be less embarrassing for everyone if they didn’t know he was aroun.

“I’m real sorry, Zach. I really am.” He couldn’t see much in the shade, but he could see her pushing a curl behind her ear. Her voice was soft, and she sounded a little sad.

“I guess I just don’t know _why_ , Beth.” College boy sounded frustrated, and Daryl kept his eyes trained on him, in case the fucker made any sudden moves towards Beth.

Beth was quiet for a minute, and he thought he saw her running her tiny hands up and down over her upper arms. “I don’t really have one,” she finally said. “It just ain’t somethin’ I can give to you. You’re a good person. I just can’t be your girl. An’ I’d rather say that to you now than hurt you later by trying to be.” She was silent for a moment before she moved again, turning towards the kid, one thin arm reaching out towards him. Daryl squinted, trying to figure out what she was up to, but before he could, Zach moved, standing over Beth. He tensed in the shadows, ready to run out there if he had to.

“Just keep it,” he said. “Nothing I can do with it.” And Zach turned around, already striding towards the cell block door, forcing Daryl to move further into the shadows to avoid being seen.

Beth stayed where she was, and he watched her for a moment, wondering if he should just leave her be and come out to do a quick inspection later in the night. Daryl shifted the crossbow on his back, still squinting and feeling less and less sure as the moments ticked by. One part of him was gunning to get back inside, get as far away from all this as he could, but a larger part, the part that had really enjoyed seeing Beth tell Zach it wasn’t going to happen, was telling him to get his ass out there and take care of his inspection.

Finally moving out of the gloom, he kept himself quiet until he got right up close to her. “Hey,” he said, looking down at her, finally lighting up that cigarette. Her hair was falling out of its ponytail, a few messy, soft-looking curls brushing against her face. Daryl inhaled a lungful of smoke, feeling himself relax bit by bit.

“Oh, hey there,” she said, looking over at him, a small smile crossing over her tired features. “Out here to walk the fence?” she asked.

“Yeah,” he said, and she stood up, facing towards him. She’d put a cardigan on since dinner, and one side was hanging off her shoulder, tugging at the neck of her t-shirt, showing off that bit of collarbone he’d been eyeing this morning.

Daryl was forced to look elsewhere when she righted the cardigan and he somehow ended up looking at her eyes. “Mind a bit of company? Still got some time before I have to take Judy offa Rick’s hands.”

He nodded at her, and they set off. Beth was pretty much silent the whole time he was doing the perimeter check, just tagging along after him, their arms occasionally bumping in the dark. Daryl could feel her eyes on him, but he didn’t feel brave enough to look and try to figure out what look she was giving him, if it was that hard one or that appraising one or something else entirely. Figured it was easier to keep his eyes on the fence, checking the locks and the bolts and looking for any potential weaknesses that might’ve cropped up since he’d been out here this morning. His kept his eyes trained on his flashlight’s beam or on the few straggling walkers that had shown up since the earlier culling, moaning and groaning just beyond the fence.

They were just about to head back through the second row of barbed wired fencing, still keeping to themselves, when Beth stopped short beside him, standing next to the gate. He automatically stopped too, turning his face to meet hers.

“I just wanted to thank you, again. For finding my necklace.” Daryl couldn’t see much of her face, and he found himself taking a step closer to her. He could see better now, the blue of her eyes darker and the shadows holding steady across her pretty face.

“It’s nothin’,” he said. He cast his eyes on his shoes, then looked back up at her, squinting a bit to make out her features. “I appreciate you not saying anythin’.”

Daryl didn’t have to squint to see the smile on Beth’s face. “It’s nothing,” she answered, using his own words against him. She smiled up at him for a moment before something sad came into her eyes, and she started talking again, the words pouring out of her in a quiet rush. “I didn’t want someone else’s necklace, someone else’s story of how they got it and who gave it to them,” she said. “I know it ain’t right to get hung up on stuff, especially now. I just couldn’t wear it, no matter how nice it is. So I’m really grateful to you, Daryl, for getting me my necklace back, and for fixing it up.”

Beth dug her hand into her pocket, and he saw what was in her hand before she closed her small fist around it. The silver bird necklace, a tangled heap in her palm, and he suddenly realized that she must’ve been trying to give it back to Zach. She looked at Daryl, and he couldn’t see anything but those blue eyes, hard like stone, looking up at him. “I’ve been thinking about what you said to me, earlier today about taking care of Judith and chances I might get, might not. And I don’t want someone else’s story. I’d rather take what I have right here than settle for something that I don’t want. Too much of this life is decided for us. I don’t want to be afraid of hoping for something good.”

Daryl just kept on staring at her, trying to work out all she was saying to him. Would any of this make a damn bit of sense to him if he hadn’t seen Beth telling Zach she couldn’t be with him? Probably not. Wasn’t much for _talking_ about shit like this, and he’d done an awful lot of it today. “Give it here,” he said quietly, snagging her small wrist with one hand, and using his other hand to open her fingers with some gentleness he didn’t often use. He grabbed the necklace from her palm, her warm skin still pretty soft, feeling only a few callouses under his fingertips. 

Beth looked just as confused as he had felt listening to her talk, her brows coming together as she bit her bottom lip. Daryl let his eyes roam her face, his gaze stopping at that sure-to-be-soft bitten lip before travelling down her neck until he saw the heart necklace resting against the rounded curve of her chest, black cord and sliver standing out against the cream color of her cardigan. Something about seeing that necklace, knowing he’d put that necklace there, woke something in him that felt awful similar to all those times he’d gone crazy, but maybe more intentional. More like he was right to feel crazy, not just plain crazy in general.

Looking down at the necklace in the palm of his hand, Daryl shook his hand a bit, rolling the thing around in his big palm. He closed his fist, looking back to Beth with one eyebrow raised. She didn’t say anything, just tilted her head towards him, still looking a touch confused. Daryl looked back out at the fence, the walkers dying to get to them, the little bit of moonlight coming down over them all. The woods just beyond the fence were practically black, but he knew without looking where all the best trails were, where the new trails he was making up were, where the irrigation system was. Didn’t have to be able to see it to know it.

Daryl put his free hand on his crossbow strap, holding it steady against his back. Didn’t look over at Beth, just pulled his hand back and whipped the necklace into the air. It sailed right over the barbed wire fence, but he lost sight of it in the dark, not too sure where it landed, just that it was beyond the fence and not his damn problem anymore, and not Beth’s, neither. He dropped his arm, watching a couple of walkers wander in the general direction he’d thrown the necklace, groaning loudly because they thought they were about to find a meal. _Fuckin’ geeks_ , he thought, but he wasn’t really bothered by them.

Daryl turned back to Beth, briefly meeting her eyes. She didn’t look confused anymore, maybe just a little thoughtful. He couldn’t tell what she was doing with those big eyes anymore, didn’t think he’d ever get around to figuring it out. Beth didn’t seem mad, though, and he was thankful for that, because he wasn’t risking his neck to go out there and try to find the stupid fucking thing. She kept silent, and Daryl finally moved past her though the gate into the main courtyard, their shadows crossing. Taking care, he locked the gate up behind them, then tugged on the lock to be sure it’d caught. Beth stood close to him, and he could feel the soft whisper of her breath against his shoulder. “Let’s get back inside,” he muttered as he brushed past her, half her body nearly pressed into his bare arm. Beth turned and followed silently along with him, and he wondered if maybe she wasn’t standing a bit closer to him than she used to. Once they got inside the concrete walls, they went their separate ways. Her disappearing into the gloomy grey shadows, off to find the baby, and him striding off to his perch, both silently nodding their goodnights to the other.

Later that night, lying in bed and staring up at the ceiling cracks again, Daryl wondered if he’d ever get a good night’s sleep again, or if those blue eyes and that mess of blonde hair was going to keep him up every night for the rest of his goddamn life.


	4. Chapter Four

Daryl leaned over the popped hood of the car, eyes moving quickly over the engine and what he could see of the cylinders. He knew without looking at Beth was behind him, attempting to inconspicuously poke around in his tool boxes. “Wanna hand me the ratchet wrench? Top drawer.”

For the past couple of weeks, since that night by the fences when she’d stopped things with Zach and he’d thrown that bird necklace over the fence, Beth had taken to finding him at some point throughout the day. After dinner, when Rick would disappear into his room for an hour or two, Lil’ Asskicker in one arm and some sort of farming manual under the other, she’d have a little time to herself. She’d tag along if he was walking the fence, or sit by if he was taking watch or working on a car. Daryl found he didn’t mind too much, because she never brought up him throwing her necklace over the fence, only asking questions about things like sparkplugs and walkers and the woods around the prison. Sometimes she’d talk about what was going on inside the prison, and other times she sit around and read a book or write in that little notebook of hers.

Daryl could hear her humming under her breath as she rummaged around, then her steps as she walked over to stand beside him. His eyes caught for a minute on her hips, on the way her jeans fit tight to her body. Forcing his gaze up to her eyes, trying not to look too hard at the vee of her blouse, he nodded his thanks and took the wrench from her. She smiled, heading back to his assorted junk. She was quiet for a bit, probably settling down with her book to do some reading.

“Where’d you get all this stuff?” Beth finally asked.

Still fiddling with the corroded battery cable, he answered. “Here and there. Mostly from a garage, maybe fifteen miles away, that hadn’t been picked over.” Sighing, he wiped his fingers off on his rag. Probably should just take the cable off and replace it, if he ever wanted the car to start reliably. Daryl turned around, taking in the sight of Beth, her back propped up against his big tool box and her legs stretched out in front of her, ankles crossed. Her hair was up, like always, the blonde mass falling over her left shoulder and she read in the fading evening light, book in her lap. She looked up at him expectantly, and he felt the back of his neck heat up. He gestured at the big tool chest she was leaning against, muttering. “I just gotta get in there real quick.”

Beth scooted out of the way a bit, sitting next to the chest instead of against it. She had her eyes on her book, but he still felt awkward, walking over there and digging around for a replacement battery cable with her sitting right there like it was nothing to have her so close to him. She’d been doing stuff like that these past two weeks, standing close to him or brushing past him as they walked around, and it was more than he was used to. Feeling uncomfortably warm as he dug around, he accidentally rammed a bit of loose wire under his thumbnail and he unthinkingly swore a blue streak, shaking his hand. Looking down at Beth, he saw she was rolling her eyes, a smile tugging at her mouth. “Why don’ you help me with this, then, Miss Manners?” he said, raising a brow and almost smiling at her expression.

Beth set down her book and stood up, brushing off her hands. Big blue eyes looking up at him, smiling. “What can I do?”

Going back to digging around, he gestured with his head to a different toolbox. “Find some cleanin' shit. An’ a rag.” By the time she’d found some spray and a ragged, stained cloth, he’d managed to dig out a replacement battery cable that looked long enough. She stood beside him in front of the car, brow furrowed and biting her lip as she watched him disconnect the terminals and lift the battery out of the car. “Here,” he said, a bit gruffly, handing the battery off to her. “Clean them terminals up, okay?” he said, running a finger around the metal knobs. Daryl stalled for a second, watching her set the battery down on the pavement. She crouched down, her jeans pulling down a fraction of an inch and her t-shirt riding up just a bit, giving him a clear view of her lower back, barely showing off those dimples just above the curve of her ass.

“Fuck,” he mumbled under his breath, too quiet for her to hear. Daryl pulled his eyes away, feeling more like a fucking scumbag than he had in a long time. His motions were jerky as he detached the corroded cable from the engine block, and he almost dropped the cover. He’d been spending a lot of time with Beth lately, but that wasn’t any excuse for thinking about her like that. She was just looking to get outside the normal pile up of people inside the prison, get away from Zach, get some time to herself, maybe get some different conversation. Not that he was so good with talking, but even still, there wasn’t any call for imagining the most private sort of things about the youngest Greene girl.

As he was attaching the new cable, Daryl tried to think about something besides Beth’s bare skin. It’d been easy to keep it all in one corner of his mind, back when he’d not been spending much time around her. Now that she spending time with him almost every day, Daryl was having a harder time keeping those thoughts where they belonged. She been cropping up in his dreams more often, sun-streaked flashes of his hand on her bare waist, his thumbs brushing the underside of her breasts, or his mouth tracing the curve of her spine as she arched beneath him. He’d thought about what her legs might feel like, wrapped around his waist. And he’d thought way more than he should about what her bare skin would taste like. When it came down to it, Daryl had been doing a lot of thinking about Beth at night. And none of it was making it easy to face her in the light of day.

Real trouble was, he was getting to know Beth more. Daryl was getting used to the way she talked, the way she moved. He was learning the sorts of things that made her smile, like the wildflowers growing by the laundry line or some new thing Jude was up to. And he was seeing some of the things that made her frown, like the time a “motherfucker” slipped out of his mouth in front of a group of little kids in the cafeteria. He was getting used to seeing her tug on her necklace and the way she chewed on her lip when she was reading or writing. And seeing so much of Beth was making him think about the raw _more_ he’d been avoiding for longer than he could remember, pulling all his x-rated imaginings into the light of day.

Beth lifted the battery, handing it over to him, the terminals all cleaned. Daryl settled it back into the car, taking more care than he had to because concentrating on the car was safer than looking at her. Beth hovered near his shoulder, watching as he quickly reattached the cables to the terminals. It was getting to the point where he could feel her near him, sense her without looking too hard at what she was up to. He’d feel a certain warmth and just _know_ , from across the cafeteria or across the yard, that Beth was around. Daryl had always been observant, and could usually tell who was nearby, to a certain extent. But he’d just be playing the fool if he didn’t admit that when it came to Beth, it was different.

“Alright,” he said, slamming the hood down with finality after finishing up. He fished the keys out of his pocket, hooking a finger through the ring. Daryl raised an eyebrow at Beth, who was watching him with a tentative smile. He tossed the keys to her, and she caught them deftly, smiling in delight. “Start ‘er up and drive her back.”

Beth scooted happily into the driver’s seat and he slid into the passenger, and he half-smiled, watching her gleefully adjust the mirrors and her seat. One thin white arm hung onto the steering wheel as she slid the key into the ignition and twisted. She sighed happily as it started up easily. Looking around carefully, Beth put the car into gear and backed out of Daryl’s corner, then pulled around, driving it over to the gate where all the other vehicles were parked. She drove better than he figured she would, and he thought about saying as much as she put the car in park and cut the engine.

“Wanna hear something silly?” she asked, looking over at him with a blush on her cheeks.

“What?” Daryl answered, propping an elbow up against the window and digging his knuckles into his hair.

Beth turned towards him a little more, slouching a bit in her seat, “I used to want to be a race car driver. For a summer, after I turned fifteen and got my permit. Driving just seemed so cool. I used to watch Nascar with Otis and Shawn and, my goodness, I used to just imagine myself doing crazy stunts when driving around the farm in Daddy’s old truck.”

“Y’ ain’t the only one,” he said. Daryl grinned, thinking about a younger, smaller Beth bouncing around the cab of a beat up truck, a serious look on her face, practicing for the Daytona 500 inside her head. “Everyone gets real excited about finally bein’ able to drive.”

Beth smiled. “I miss it, sometimes,” she said. “I’d rather be inside the gates, don’t get me wrong. But I miss just being out for a drive, by myself. Miss watching everything move past me as I keep going forward. And I really miss singin’ along to the radio. Everybody sounds better when the radio’s on.” She flashed him a smile he was getting used to, something halfway between happy and sad, as she pulled the keys out of the ignition and dropped them in the cup holder. They’d all taken to leaving the keys in the car, just in case.

Daryl kept his eyes on her and she looked up at him, the fading sunlight setting over her shoulder, casting a gold light over her shoulders. Something about the sun made her look pretty, lit her soft skin up from underneath. He felt like a perfect fucking ass, sitting across the car from a girl like Beth Greene and thinking about her soft skin and that wavy blonde tangle of hair. And he was getting used to her eyes, too, those looks she’d give him. Daryl couldn’t figure out if he was getting better at reading those eyes of her, or if he was just getting used to not always being able to read her. Another one of those things he decided not to think about too much.

“Probably oughtta get back in and get Judy ready for bed,” she said, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. “Thanks for lettin’ me drive.”

“Ya earned it,” he said as they got out of the car. They walked around to the front of the car and stood for a minute, just facing each other.

Beth was squinting, facing into the sun with her hands tucked into her back pockets, elbows sticking out away from her thin frame. “I’ll see you later,” she said, smiling up at him as best she could with the sun in her eyes. He nodded, giving her a half-smile, and Beth turned away, heading back into the prison.

Daryl let his eyes wander over to her disappearing form as he walked back over to his tools, and by the time he was back with all his shit, Beth had vanished into the main door to C-block. He was starting to put stuff away, cleaning off the tools he’d used that day, when he noticed that she’d left her book sitting next to his big tool chest, the one she’d been leaning up against. Bending over, he picked it up, brushing some gravel off the back. She was still reading _Gone With the Wind_ , but if the bit of scrap paper poking out between some pages was any indication, she was pretty close to the end. He set it down on top of his tool boxes as he finished picking up, deciding he’d have to bring it on in to her when he’d finished up out here.

As soon as everything was back in place, Daryl grabbed the book and headed back inside. A few people were milling about, and he was forced to chat with a few different folks from Woodbury, all of them asking him questions about upcoming runs, guard duty and shit like that. He kept his hands wrapped around the book, trying to cover up as much of the damn thing as possible, curling it inwards with the force of his grip. He was about two minutes away from an aneurysm when he finally managed to escape the questions. Daryl practically took the stairs three at a time in an attempt to get away.

Around the time he reached the top of the stairs, a few cells away from Beth’s, he unclenched his hands around the book and realized he’d bent the book practically in half. Grumbling under his breath, annoyed by the people that had swarmed him downstairs and the fact that he’d crumpled her book to shit, he tried curling the book in the opposite direction, hoping to smooth it out as best he could. There was a slight crease in Clark Gable’s face, and Daryl rubbed his thumb over it repeatedly as he stomped towards Beth’s cell, still mumbling curses and complaints under his breath. The curtain over her door was open, and he strode right in, eyes still fixed on the wrinkle he’d made in Clark Gable’s face.

“Beth, ya left…” The rest of his words died in his throat when he looked up to find a startled looking Maggie staring at him from where she was perched on the edge of Beth’s bed. Beth was standing next to Maggie, swaying gently with Lil’ Asskicker in her arms, the baby all dressed for bed in pink footie pajamas and looking sleepy, little eyes all droopy and unfocused. Suddenly aware he’d left his mouth hanging open, he forced words to come out of his mouth. “Left this outside,” he finally managed, his eyes fixed on some indeterminate space between the sisters’ kneecaps. Daryl held the book up for a moment before setting it down on the table by the cell door. Clark Gable’s creased face looked up at him sardonically, and he was pretty sure he could feel Maggie’s stare boring twin little holes into his forehead.

“Oh, thank you,” she said. Beth bounced Judith slightly. “I’m about to put her down. Wanna say goodnight?” Without waiting for a reply, she stepped forward, the light from the lamp in her cell flickering in her eyes. Feeling a little like he had his back to the wall, he focused on the baby, the tired pout she wore and the tiny fist she had tangled in Beth’s ponytail. The girl had her head snuggled under Beth’s chin and blinked sleepily up at Daryl, a tiny smile on her face. He was a little used to the way people would stare when he was with the baby, everybody always a little confused by the sight. But it was a little different, knowing it was just Maggie who was staring at him, staring at him running a hand over the downy hair on Judith’s head, staring at him as he stood a few inches shy of her baby sister. Daryl stole a quick look at Maggie over Beth’s shoulder, sitting there looking at them with the strangest look on her face.

Daryl yanked his hand away when his pinkie brushed the hand Beth had on Judy’s back, mentally cursing because he knew Maggie had eyes like a hawk. It was time to get the hell out of there and away from the Greene sisters. Time to get away from everyone. “Alright,” was all he said, sparing a quick look at Beth’s face and an even quicker one at Maggie as he ran one finger along the bottom of Judith’s foot. Daryl nodded at no one in particular, and just left without another goddamn word, feeling like he’d just had a near miss with something even more awful than a walker. Working to blank out his mind, blotting out everything, he headed off to walk the fences again and check on whoever was on watch in the tower. Nothing like something to do to keep a man sane.

Whole evening, starting with Beth’s shirt riding up and ending with the look on Maggie’s face, was a fucking wash. Woodbury people asking him questions, like he had answers. Beth standing so close to him, holding onto that baby, looking at him with her big blue eyes, not giving a shit that her sister was just sitting there in silence, watching the three of them.

Too many goddamn people around. That’s what it came down to. Daryl kicked one of the metal fence posts, probably a little more forcefully than he should have, judging by the dull throb in his big toe. When it came to Beth, he hadn’t really reckoned on other people seeing them spending so much time together. Wasn’t like they’d spent much time together before, and they weren’t exactly likely friends. He’d been a moron, thinking it was something people wouldn’t notice eventually. Might just be Maggie staring at him a little funny for now, but pretty soon others might start saying something. And it didn’t take a genius to figure out the sort of thing they’d be saying about the dirty old redneck and the pretty girl. Worst part was knowing that he _was_ a dirty old redneck. Hadn’t he just been thinking about her like that less than an hour ago? And that was the least of the thinking he’d been doing.

Of course, the growling voice in the back of his head reasoned, might be all those Woodbury assholes would leave him alone if they thought he was the sort of guy to hang around with jailbait.

Trouble was, he wasn’t that guy and never had been. He’d been trying to do right for as long as he could remember. Daryl might not have always lived up to it in the past, but he’d been trying to be good to his brother and to the rest of the world and it wasn’t always easy to do all that at once. And now that it was just him and Rick and everybody else counting on them, he’d been better at it. There were people that needed him. And that was that. Life wasn’t so complicated when it was just a matter of figuring out what other people needed and then trying to get it for them as best he could. Shit got a little murky when it came to everything else, like pretty Beth Greene, who was a million things at once.

Too much for him, all of this goddamn shit. He was really starting to miss the days when his tent was on the far side of the Greene’s yard, close enough to help in case of trouble, far enough away that he didn’t have to feel too suffocated. Yeah, those were the fucking days.

…

Daryl spent the next day steering clear of just about everybody. He ran off into the woods first thing in the morning, using hunting as an always reasonable excuse.

When he returned to the prison just before dinnertime, Daryl was covered in dirt and blood and feeling only marginally better for being out all day and making a mess. He’d had a run in with a few hungry walkers that had caused him to lose the first buck he’d had in his sights, and that had pissed him off for a while. He’d finally gotten lucky sometime in mid-afternoon, finding a bigger fellow than the one he’d lost, which improved his mood as much as anything else. Not much.

He stayed out in the grassy far side of the yard while skinning the deer, and was relieved when no one approached him. By the time he’d finished up gutting the deer, he was pretty sure dinner was all but over, and it was probably safe enough to head on in. Daryl slunk into the kitchen, dragging in everything he had and grunting at Pauline, who took it in stride. He had the feeling she was used to shit like that.

Daryl made it to his cell and down the showers without running into much of anybody, just Glenn, who seemed the same as always. After checking the bathroom was empty, then jamming the door shut for good measure, he took a quick camp shower, scrubbing the grime out of his hair and the blood out from under his nails. His mood improved a bit, standing under the spray and scrubbing off the grime, but he still wasn’t about to be winning any awards for congeniality any time soon. He got dressed in record time, still a little damp, and decided to stick to the plan of avoiding most everybody, especially Beth. Seeing Rick, however, was probably a safe enough bet. Daryl could work on sorting out that big run with him, which would keep Beth out of his hair and out of his mind. After stowing his gear back in his room, he set off to find Rick.

Rick was sitting in his cell, casually flipping through a book on corn genetics. Daryl rapped his knuckles against the cell door, and Rick looked up. “Hey,” Rick said, tossing the book onto his bed. There was a whole stack of farming books piled up next to the folding chair Rick was sitting in, along with a raggedy looking notebook open to a page covered in chicken scratch and a diagram Daryl couldn’t make heads or tails of.

Daryl raised a brow. “What the hell are you gonna do to the goddamn corn?” He didn’t know the first thing about corn genetics, but the book looked like it had been pulled from one of the dustier, older corners of the library and Daryl reckoned the whole thing wasn’t ever going to come to much of anything.

Scrubbing a hand over his face, Rick laughed. “Nothing, probably. Can’t figure out a damn thing the book’s saying to me.” The man was looking better lately, now that the prison was starting to pull together, starting to look more and more like the sort of place they’d really be able to maintain. He was starting to look a little like he had before Lori’s death. Not hopeful, really. But something a little like it.

Daryl nodded, still leaning against the doorway. “So, I was thinking about the big run we were talkin’ about earlier. Probably ought to do that soon.”

Rick didn’t reply right away, sort of staring through Daryl blankly, which made him a bit uncomfortable. Finally, he spoke, sounding more than a little unconcerned. “Yeah, man, whatever you think’s good.”

Daryl studied Rick in silence for a minute. Rick had been like that for a while now, brushing off any plans a body brought to him. Wasn’t decisive anymore, not like before. “Anybody you think I should bring along? Thinking I should wait to see if Michonne comes on through, soon.”

“Nah, man. You’re the boss, here. It’s your show.” Daryl clenched his teeth but kept his face even.

Nodding, he crossed his arms. “Alright,” he said. “Let you get back to your corn. Gotta go check the fences.”

Rick waved in reply, picking up his notebook. “Later, man.”

Daryl shoved off, starting to head for the yard without a backwards glance. Looking back, he wasn’t really sure why he’d come inside in the first place. Should’ve just stayed outside, stewing in his own filth out in the woods. He could sleep in a tree. Maybe it was time to start building a perch for long hunting trips. If they came across the right hunting goods store, he might be able to find some sort of readymade thing that would d. Better than taking a hammer and nails out into the woods and banging until all the walkers in a twenty-five mile radius were hanging out under his perch, like a bunch of coon dogs with their eyes fixed on a particularly big raccoon, stuck in a tree with nowhere to go.

Just when he was about to make it all the way through the cell block, the big door to the yard right in his sights, he heard a familiar voice call out his name. He ground his teeth, trying to decide if he should turn around or not, when Zach caught up to him. “Hey, man. You still talking about heading out on that big run soon?”

“Talkin’ about it,” Daryl ground out, still walking towards the door, deliberately not looking in Zach’s direction. Damn kid couldn’t take a hint, though, and kept on chattering.

“Well, if you’re going to do it, I really want to come along. I mean, it’s something I can help out with.” Daryl spared a glance for college boy, who was looking up at him with an earnest expression. Trouble with fucking Zach was that he was like a fucking dog, looking at you with nothing but what he was thinking on his face. Kid didn’t lie, didn’t keep secrets. He liked Beth, so he followed her around like a puppy. He got her a necklace, thinking it’d make her happy. And he kept away after she told him to go, didn’t bother her none or anything. Starting to feel subtle throbbing behind his eyes, Daryl clenched his fists, trying not to think about the sight of that stupid necklace sailing over the barbed wire fence and straight into a bunch of walkers.

“Still plannin’,” Daryl finally said. “Reckon if you want in, there’s space for you. Now let me be.” Without waiting for another word from the kid, Daryl pushed through the heavy door and out into the night.

When he got out to his side of the yard, Daryl halfheartedly fooled around with an alternator he’d found a while back. It got darker and darker, and he hadn’t accomplished much of anything besides scratching at the metal some and maybe stripping some screws. He’d been working on keeping his mind blank, but he could feel all those thoughts, squirming around underneath the blanket he’d thrown over them. Wasn’t accomplishing shit tonight, and his thoughts weren’t about to get settled anytime soon. Hunting had taken all day, Rick was avoiding talking about the run, and Zach had pissed him off even more by showing off his puppy dog face. Feeling particularly spiteful and giving up on trying to be nice, he chucked the alternator into one of his piles of junk and fished his cigarettes and lighter out of his pocket.

Daryl ended up stretched out on the pavement, smoking and staring up at the slowly coming into focus stars. Wasn’t exactly comfortable, but he didn’t want to head inside and he figured if he was laying down, no one would see him out here. And although he was getting used to seeing her, which was probably the root of all his troubles, he didn’t want Beth catching sight of him out here and coming out to sit with him.

When he’d smoked down to the filter, he stubbed it out and flicked the butt away. A part of his mind was already clamoring for the next one, but he wasn’t listening to it. While he wasn’t exactly running low, he wasn’t about to waste them on laying out in the yard and staring at the sky. Sighing a bit, Daryl started running plans through his mind, thinking about how many people it might be good to bring along on the big run. Based on how far away the place was, they couldn’t afford to take too many people away from the prison. Needed to make sure the place was well defended, in case they were gone for a while. They’d have to take a few of the bigger vehicles, too, load them up real good. Depending on what shape the place was in, they might be able to make a bunch of runs over the upcoming months, stockpile what they needed. Might be good to have someplace reliable. Keep the questions to a minimum if they could just do the same run for a while.

He hated to admit it, but Rick clearly wasn’t going to be helping him out on this one. And it wasn’t like Daryl _needed_ Rick’s help, but he wanted it anyways. Wanted to feel like Rick had his mind on something other than making purple corn or whatever you did with corn genetics. Rick did better with the nonstop questions, could reassure people with his words. All Daryl ever did when opening his mouth was piss people off, scare them, or say something stupid.

He could field some questions here and there, but it wasn’t like that. And on top of all the questions he was getting, Daryl could see that people were looking at him like he had answers, like he knew what he was doing. Like he was some sort of leader. And he knew that wasn’t true. Maybe he was helping out more that Rick was keeping busy with his crops. But that was it, even if no one saw it that way. All of it was making him itchy, making him hate the grey walls of the prison and the pile up of people looking up at him like he could do something for them, do something more than take down some animals or organize a group of people for a run. If he could just do that, maybe they’d leave him alone for a little while.

Fixing his eyes on the Ursa Major, the bear constellation, Daryl concluded to himself that he probably wasn’t going to be left alone anytime soon. Nothing was ever that simple.

Maybe he deserved that second cigarette after all.

Daryl was scrounging around in his pockets when he heard the quiet footfalls, boots on pavement. He screwed his eyes shut, instantly giving up the search for nicotine and putting his hands behind his head.

The quiet footsteps stopped, and Daryl just thought of breathing. “Hey,” Beth said, quiet. He didn’t reply, and he heard her shuffling around a bit. Eyes still shut, he heard her sit down, then lay out on the pavement next to him. Didn’t have to look to know there wasn’t anything more than a handful of inches of gravelly pavement between them. He just thought about keeping his breathing even, not letting his mind settle on the girl stretched out in the yard next to him.

“Heard you’re talking about going on a run soon,” she said after a few minutes.

“All’s I get is questions. Didn’t expect it from you, too.” He kept his eyes shut, and he wondered if her eyes were too, or if she was looking up at the sky, like he had been.

“Of course they’re askin’ you questions, Daryl. You’re their leader.” She said it all straightforward, quiet and calm, like she was telling him what they were having for dinner.

Daryl breathed out through his nose. “That’s fuckin’ bullshit, Beth.”

“No, it isn’t.” There wasn’t anything plaintive about her voice, just that same sort of quiet confidence she’d had for some time now. Beth wasn’t trying to convince him. All she was doing was telling him.

Suddenly Daryl sat up, leaning on one elbow to face Beth as best he could in the dark. He could just barely see the shape of her face in the dark, and he was reminded of that night two weeks ago, the calm look on her face when he’d chucked that necklace over the fence, the cool assessment in her eyes. Beth turned to look at him, the moonlight glinting off her eyes and the heart necklace resting on her chest, rising and falling with her breath, just barely moving under his blue eyes. He let his eyes skim down her body, on the way her shirt rode up over her hips, showing off the curve of bone under pale skin, the rise and fall of her flat belly and small breasts. Daryl felt taunted, goaded by the fact that she was sitting near him, looking at him like that, looking the way she did. _Pretty_ , and still so fucking tempting.

“Maybe I should start askin’ you questions. See how you like it.”

He felt her eyes then, really felt them and all the weight they put on him, pressing all the anger out of him. In one blistering moment, Daryl had the sudden feeling that he was on the other side of his crossbow’s sight. He was the poor fucker in the crosshairs, and Beth was the one pinning him down with her eyes. She was breathing easy. He was the one counting every one of his last breaths.

“It isn’t so bad, havin’ those people look up to you, is it?” Beth was genuinely curious, he could hear in her voice, the slight inflection she put on _is it_?

“I just ain’t Rick,” he admitted, pressing his hands into his eyes as he laid back down. Daryl felt like the words were being pulled from him, making him feel slightly sick and relieved, his stomach churning but his mind calming down a bit, thoughts settling like leaves on a quiet pond.

“Rick ain’t exactly Rick right now, either.” She sounded a little wry when she said that, something almost like sarcastic, but more gentle than that. He looked over at her, and he saw her hand moving across her chest. Playing with her necklace again. She met his eyes. “It’s not forever, you know. And you’re good at it. People look up to you.”

Daryl kept silent, pressing his hands to his eyes again. He could hear her breathing again, could hear the walkers moaning and hissing at the fence. There was a little noise coming from the prison, sounds dragged through the yard by the wind. Didn’t like hearing those walkers so close to Beth, didn’t like the way her exhale of breath sounded next to their constant groaning. He couldn’t trace all the moments that somehow got him here with her, talking about him having to lead the prison while Rick took a break to get his shit together. He didn’t want to admit that Rick needed that, because that meant telling himself it really was time to really step into Rick’s shoes for a little while, instead of hanging back.

Beth moved again, a slight rustle of her sweater he heard and nearly felt. Her warm hand landed on his arm, fingers resting against his bicep, and he felt her thumb move back and forth slowly, a soothing motion that made him go completely still. “All of us know you’re doing this _for_ Rick.” She pressed her fingers into him for a moment, squeezing. “But you don’t need us to tell you that. You’ve been doing it all along, picking up where he can’t. Have to be blind not to see it.” Beth’s thumb moved again, one long, slow sweeping motion across his arm, and he stayed utterly still under the still-foreign feeling of being touched like that. After a long, tense moment, she pulled her hand away. He could still feel it though, like the sweet sting of the Georgia sun in July.

“It’s going to get better,” Beth said.

Daryl pulled his hands away from his eyes and hauled himself up on one elbow at that. “And how the hell do you know that?”

It was dark, but he could still see that hard calmness in her eyes, same as that day by the laundry line, same as that night he’d thrown her necklace over the fence. It was a look he was getting used to seeing, maybe even something he liked seeing from time to time.

“I just believe it. I have to.” she said simply, looking him dead in the eye. She didn’t have to say it out loud, because he heard her voice in his head just the same: _And so do you_.

And damn it if she wasn’t right.


	5. Chapter Five

Glenn sighed contently, reclining the car seat and closing his eyes.

Daryl shot him a look from behind the wheel. “Screw you, man,” he said, but he wasn’t bitter. Glenn drove on the way out, and now that they were heading back to the prison, it was Daryl’s turn.

Laughing, Glenn stretched his arms out leisurely before lacing his fingers together behind his head. “I earned it. Who found that box of candy bars?”

The two of them had gone out on a quick run, just to tide them over until the big run next week. They’d hit up a few nearby houses and found a reasonable haul, including a big box of candy bars. Daryl and Glenn had been out for a few hours, collected a decent amount of stuff, and were heading back. It’d been a while since the two of them had gone out, and he’d forgotten how good it was to work with Glenn. The pair of them knew each other, had been working together for long enough to be able to get in and do what needed to be done without any fuss or extra explaining. And he could trust the guy, which was more than he could say about most everybody else.

“Yeah, yeah. An’ I bet you give ‘em all to Maggie.”

Glenn shot him a _dude, come on_ look. “Like that whole pile of stationary stuff isn’t going to Beth?”

Daryl felt his neck start to burn and his stomach clenched right up. “She asked me for it. Tryin’ to do some sort of baby book for Judith.”

“Hmm.” Glen was silent, Daryl could see out of the corner of his eye that Glenn had fixed a considering eye on him, smirking a bit. “But,” Glenn said, drawling a bit. “She did ask you, and not me.”

Taking his eyes off the road for one minute, he shot Glenn a glare that most others would wilt under. “An’ just what the hell is that suppose’ta mean?” Daryl’s palms felt a bit sweaty against the steering wheel and he gripped it harder.

Still smirking, Glenn shrugged. “Nothing,” he said, a little too innocently, pulling a candy bar from his jacket pocket. Catching Daryl’s raised brow, he grinned. Patting his pockets, he simply said, “Plenty more where that comes from. Like you said, giving them all to Maggie. Except this one.”

“Whatever, man.” Daryl turned back to the road and spent the rest of the trip trying to ignore the knowing looks Glenn was throwing him. It’d been going on three weeks that Beth had been coming to find him in the evenings, and he knew people were noticing, although no one had commented until now. It was to be expected, but Daryl had been kind of clinging to the futile hope that it was never going to come up. Didn’t have anything to say about it, and especially wasn’t going to say jack shit in front of Beth’s brother-in-law. If Glenn knew something, Maggie knew something, and the reverse was true, as well. Better to keep his trap shut. Being cooped up in the prison made people nosy, but they’d all lose interest eventually, given that the pair of them never got up to anything more interesting than killing walkers and changing the oil on his motorcycle.

Since the night they’d laid out on the pavement, Daryl had just kind of accepted that Beth was going to be hanging around him. He’d settled on mostly trying to keep his thoughts clean, although he still found himself staring at her from time to time. What he’d decided on was the idea that the appeal of Beth Greene might go away if he just gave it some time. And he wasn’t particularly proud of this train of thought, but he figured he may as well enjoy it for the time being, and didn’t beat himself up too much over a particularly interesting dream or if his eyes lingered a bit on her ass. That sort of thing always went away eventually.

It was late afternoon when they pulled into the gates and began unloading the car with some help from Carl and Beanpole, who apparently had a real name, Patrick. After getting it all inside, where Carol and a few others would sort it out, Daryl snagged the shipping box full of stationary he’d found. Glenn caught his eye and grinned, so he responded by flipping him off. Seeing the less than friendly gesture, Carol poked Daryl in the ribs and rolled her eyes at him, standing between him and Glenn.

“Do I even want to know what’s in that box?”

“Probably not,” Glenn intoned solemnly from behind Carol, his face a mask of mock sobriety but his eyes shining with laughter. Daryl gave Glenn an _eat shit and die_ glare.   Carol turned and looked between the two of them, half-exasperated, half-amused. Glen waggled his eyebrows briefly before shoving his hands into his bulging pockets, off to find Maggie.

“It’s just paper,” Daryl said, looking at Carol. “Nothin’ exciting.”

Carol’s look turned considering. “What kind? We could use with some more paper for story time.”

Stomach churning, he looked away, staring out at the people milling the cafeteria, poking through the finds of the day. “Just some scrapbook crap. Beth wanted to do some book thing for Judy. You can ask her how much of it she needs, I bet.” Daryl kept his hands wrapped around the box and looked at Carol out of the corner of his eye.

One eyebrow arched elegantly, Carol simply said, “Ah,” before returning to digging through the pile of clothes.

Taking the opportunity to escape before the situation got any more uncomfortable, Daryl headed off towards Beth’s cell, the box tucked under his arm. Since the time he’d barged in and Maggie saw him, he’d been careful about stopping at Beth’s cell, listening carefully for noises and taking a peek before barreling in. This time, the coast was clear, just Beth playing with Judith on the floor, the little girl screeching happily while knocking over a pyramid made out of red solo cups.

“Hey,” he said, stepping just inside the curtain. Beth looked up at him, smiling. “I got that stuff you wanted.”

“Really?” A smile lit up her face. She scooped up the little girl and stood in one well-practiced motion, walking over. Judith leaned a chubby cheek against Beth’s shoulder, tangling one chubby fist in the long blonde ponytail and gnawing contentedly on the other.

Opening the box up, Daryl tilted it in her direction. Beth dug through one handedly, looking at the papers and specialty pens and markers he’d found. “Somethin’ special at the bottom.” She shot him an amused look, and rustled around before pulling out a brand new scrapbook, one of those fancy build your own things with a leather cover.

“Oh, my goodness, where did you find this?” She swept her thumb across the mulberry-colored leather, a beautiful smile working its way across her face. With the baby on one hip, all comfortably snuggled into Beth, and that album in her hands, it was easy to see that Beth really was this little girl’s mother in almost every way. Beth had that look in her eyes he loved best, that soft look she reserved especially for the Lil’ Asskicker. Beth set the album down on her desk, slowly running one hand over the cover and running a finger over the embossed edges. She pressed a kiss to Judy’s forehead before turning back to Daryl. “Here,” she said, reaching with her free hand for the box in his hands. She tugged it from him gently, and put it with the scrapbook.

“Thank you,” she said, quiet and sincere, looking right into his eyes.

Beth took a step forward, getting into his personal space like she had been for three weeks now. Daryl had gotten used enough to that. All of a sudden, though, she reached out with one thin arm and hooked it around his waist, small fingers digging into his torso. Beth pressed into him, and Judith too, Beth’s hips angled away slightly so the little girl didn’t get squashed. Beth had her cheek pressed to his chest and Lil’ Asskicker took her fist out of her mouth to pull at Daryl’s ragged breast pocket, gurgling delightedly.

Daryl locked up for a moment, not sure about breathing or what he was supposed to be doing with his hands. But after a moment, his hands moved of their own accord, one hand resting lightly on the slight curve of her waist, his hand huge against the small of her back, making him all too aware of her slightness. Daryl couldn’t stop his fingertips from rubbing at her back a little, trying to feel her skin through the warm, thin cotton of her shirt. His other arm rested against hers, pressed against the baby to keep her steady against Beth’s side, his hand finding its way to her elbow and grasping where it was hooked around Judith. He inclined his head, just a tiny bit, trying to better get a hint of that floral note and whatever distinctly _her_ smell lingered beneath that, that raw scent that would stick in his mind for days after each time he found himself close enough to get a hold of it. And after that, he just stayed still. Daryl had the thought in his head that he could hear her heartbeat, almost feel it beating against him. Calm and steady, just a low thump that kept time with the pounding in his own chest. All of her warmth enveloping him, the softness of her skin and the brush of her hair against his throat. He gave a little sigh, and his eyes slid shut.

After a few more moments, she pulled away, unwrapped her arm from around him and untangled Judy’s sticky fingers from his shirt. He kept his eyes down as she pulled back, but he could feel her eyes on him. Not looking up, Daryl let his eyes travel down her neck, sweeping across her throat. He followed her hand as she pressed it into Judith’s back, smoothing the girl’s shirt. His gaze traced the tilt of her hips, jutting out to balance the baby, then his eyes moved down her thin legs to her small boots.

Finally, he forced his gaze upwards, and Daryl found himself looking right into her eyes again. That soft look in her blue eyes was gone, replaced by that hard, calm look he’d been seeing more and more. It was a look that meant Beth was really looking at him, that her baby blue eyes were digging into him and seeing, just like she saw everything else that went on around here. It still scared him, a little bit, to see that look on her face, to know what it meant. But he was growing comfortable with that look, too, had been letting himself get used to it since that night when she laid out next to him and pressed her small fingers against his arm and made his skin burn in all sorts of ways.

Daryl had been looking at her, learning all the little bits of her, from the look of her against the setting sun to the hum of her voice when she didn’t know anyone was listening. Somehow he didn’t mind her doing the same to him. Seemed like some ass-backwards idea of fair.

“I better get goin’,” he finally said. “Let me know what else ya need.” Daryl ran the back of his index finger over Lil’ Asskicker’s arm, who twinkled up at him.

“Thanks, Daryl. I really mean it.”

Something like a smile tugged at his lips. “I know ya do.” He nodded, and taking one last look at the two girls, their bodies curving in towards each other as they both watched him. “I’ll see you later.”

“Yeah,” Beth said, smiling.

…

“Yeah, so we’re thinking two or three vehicles for this one,” Daryl said, looking between Michonne and Glenn. “We got Bob, Sasha, Zach, and the three of us goin’. Two’s prob’ly enough, we’ll waste less gas that way.” Most of the council was still sitting in the cafeteria after lunch. Rick, Carol, Hershel and Maggie were talking. Beth was pacing around the cafeteria with Judith in her arms, gently patting the girl’s back and talking to her. From what Beth had said, the baby had been fussy the past few days, and Beth was starting to look a little pale, purple-blue smears showing up in stark relief under her eyes. Daryl was focused on the conversation in front of him, but he let his eyes flicker over to Beth every once in a while, casually tracking her slow movement around the big space.

Michonne nodded. She’d turned up the night before, fresh from a month on the road, but immediately volunteered for the run. She’d been searching for the Governor off and on, wanting to finally take him down for good after all he’d done. She and Daryl understood each other a little on this. If he hadn’t known for some time that his place was at the prison, working side by side with Rick and the rest of them, he’d probably be out there, too. The fucker had killed Merle and Andrea, after all. But having a bone to pick with that one-eyed prick wasn’t going to keep this prison pulled together. And being out on the road, tracking trails long since gone cold, wasn’t going to keep his family safe. The governor might come back. Might not. Daryl kept his eyes open, but he knew well enough that there were some people who didn’t want to be found, couldn’t be found. Daryl was needed here. Didn’t know what else he could do.

“We’ll head out early in the day, two days from now. Don’t want to spend too much time out there, just secure the place, grab some shit and get out. If it’s a good location, we can go back, keep usin’ it.” They wrapped up the discussion with some debate about how much ammo and extra gear to bring along, considering the extra people they’d be bringing along. The conversation broke up naturally after a time, and Michonne wandered off in the direction of the shower block, while Maggie and Glenn snuck off towards their cell holding hands. Daryl stayed put for a while, going over the list of needed supplies Carol had compiled, trying to memorize as much of it as possible.   Eventually, Rick and Carol disappeared as well, Rick probably heading back outside to his plants and Carol off to story time with a bunch of kids trailing after her.

Daryl felt his neck start to burn when he realized that left just him and Hershel sitting at the table, both of them looking at Beth from time to time. Daryl liked the old man. Got along with him just fine, and they respected each other. Wasn’t like they talked much, though. And it wasn’t like he was avoiding Hershel lately, but he sure as shit wasn’t seeking him out to talk about sitting out in the dark with his youngest daughter, or her hugging him the day before. He knew the man wasn’t dumb, though, and had more than likely noticed that his baby girl was spending time with the old red neck with the crossbow and filthy mouth.

Although he tried to keep his eyes on his list, Hershel eventually caught Daryl’s eye. Looking as placid as ever, he asked how preparations for the run were coming along.

“Shouldn’t be too bad. Last we checked, roads were still clear. Can’t say what it’s like inside the place, but it shouldn’t be more’n we can handle.”

Hershel folded his hands over his stomach and leaned back in his metal folding chair. “It’s good you’re taking charge with this. The group respects you.” He had his eyes, that solemn and steady gaze, settled on Daryl, and it felt heavy. At least he really knew where Beth got her damn eyes from.

“Just helpin’ Rick out. He’s needed here, an’ all.” Daryl shifted uncomfortably, setting the list down on the table. Not wanting to look into Hershel’s gaze, even though he felt it, he let his eyes wander around the room. Beth had settled on the floor, sitting up against the wall as she gave Judy her bottle. He tapped his fingers restlessly against the table a few times before using his thumbnail to dig at the pressed wood, carving out a messy shallow groove.

“Well, we all appreciate it.” Hershel was silent for a moment, scratching at his white beard. “Beth tells me you found her a whole pile of supplies to make a baby book for Judith. It was good of you to do that.” He sighed, but it was a happy sigh, the sigh of an old man watching his daughter caring for a child like it was her own. A sigh that came with a smile. Hershel carried on, slow and thoughtful. “Beth’s always been the caring sort. When she was a little girl, she was always bringing in the kittens from the barn, setting them up all cozy in her big wooden doll house with her mama’s good quilts. Annette could never stay mad at her, though, even though the blankets would get full of fleas.” Hershel lapsed into silence, chuckling a bit, as he regarded his daughter.

Hershel turned back to Daryl, their eyes meeting as Hershel spoke again. “She’s a good mother.” He raised his brows a little bit, smiling a little and bobbing his head as he spoke. “Might be younger than I thought, and not quite how I thought I’d see it all happen.” Daryl nodded at that. “But I’m happy to know she’s a hard workin’ woman and still has that soft heart, even after all she’s been through. And I’m glad my little girl is where she’s safe, where she’s got family. She’s got people like you and her sister and Glenn looking out for her.” The older man leaned forward, voice dropping a bit. “We all need that from time to time.”

After giving Daryl an inscrutable look, Hershel slowly got to his feet, leaning on his crutch a bit. “Well, I suppose I ought to head over to the library. Carol asked me to do a little lesson on first aid this afternoon. Best oblige her.” Daryl nodded in farewell, feeling a little like Hershel had cracked open his skull and poked around a bit with a screwdriver.

Hershel hopped past Beth as he went out of the room, and she looked up at her father with a smile, reaching out to squeeze his hand for a moment. After her father left the room, Beth looked up at Daryl. The baby was all but dozing in her arms, the both of them looking pretty damn tired, but Beth still managed a smile. Shoving his list into his pocket, he got up and wandered over to her.

“Still givin’ you trouble?” he asked quietly, standing over her. Beth had her head tilted up, resting against the wall. She looked a bit drawn, shoulders drooping a bit.

“Not too bad,” she said. “Maybe she’ll wear herself out and we can finally get some sleep tonight.”

Looking down at her, Daryl could even sort of see the little girl, carrying a box of kittens up into her bedroom, going slow and careful up the stairs. Wasn’t hard to imagine her, stretched out on her belly, watching over the kittens like a second momma cat, tiny little lumps of warm, breathing fur wrapped up in a priceless heirloom quilt. And a part of him felt bothered, knowing she was maybe only ten years past being that little girl, and he was ten years from being some asshole mechanic in his mid-twenties, getting in fights at bars and raising hell for no good reason. But another part of him saw just how much she’d grown since then. She wasn’t a little girl anymore. Wasn’t really a girl at all. She was a woman, like her daddy said. Daryl could see it, too.

“Better get some rest while you can. Gonna be a busy couple of days ‘round here.”

“Tryin’,” Beth whispered, grinning up at him. “Now get outta here, before you wake her up!”

He gave her a lopsided smile. Daryl hesitated a moment, then brushed his fingertips across her shoulder for a quick moment, just a light touch that was over just before it began. She looked a little startled at that, he could see, but he could tell by the glint in her eyes that she was pleased all the same. Giving her a nod, he headed off, mind still buzzing and an unfamiliar tingling in his fingertips.

…

Beth was stretched out on the rug on the library floor, a pillow tucked under her head, and book laying open across her belly. She’d been reading for a few minutes, but had fallen asleep pretty quickly, eyes drooping and book slipping from her hands. Her breathing was low and quiet, one arm across her forehead and the other on top of her book. Daryl was slouched in one chair, with his boots up on another chair. He was still working his way through _From Here to Eternity_.

At dinner, Daryl had taken one look at her run-down appearance and decided he wasn’t about to let her follow him outside while he paced around or tinkered with some shit. He struggled for a moment with the idea of telling her to just stay in while he went outside to work, but couldn’t come up with any nice way to tell her that she looked like she was going to keel over. So when she approached him after dinner, wan smile on her face, he suggested the first thing he could think of: going into the library for a little while. So Beth ended up sprawled out on the floor while Daryl sat a few feet away, neither of them actually doing much reading, although for very different reasons.

He was getting used to how distracting she was. Couldn’t read for beans with her dozing like that, hearing her low and slow breathing, tank top riding up a handful of inches and showing off quite a bit of her flat belly. Didn’t much care if he was reading or not. Not that Daryl had a whole lot of time that wasn’t dedicated to doing some sort of work, but when he did have a moment to himself, he’d been spending it thinking about Beth. Tonight wasn’t going to be any different. Since the moment the day before she’d wrapped one thin arm around his torso and pressed up against him, he’d had a hard time thinking on anything else. He’d spent a lot of time that night remembering the softness of her waist and back, the way she’d slid right up against him, fitting right into his side. In his mind, Daryl had recreated the feel of her breasts brushing against him, thinking about it over and over again until he thought he could really almost feel it. Until he thought he really had gone crazy and made up the whole thing in his mind.

Daryl knew a hug from a girl like Beth didn’t mean jack shit. She was the kind of girl that hugged people, touched them. He saw how she was with her sister, with her father. Hell, it wasn’t like she’d really been keeping her distance from him this whole time. She’d just caught him off-guard, like she had been for weeks now. And now her father was following suit.

What Hershel had said to him this afternoon, as best Daryl had been able to figure it out, was that he was grateful for someone like Daryl looking out for his little girl. Didn’t make Daryl feel any better about thinking about Beth for hours the night before, sprawled across his shitty prison bunk and all his sheets and blankets kicked to the floor. It was a fucking pain, to spend his nights fantasizing about her only to wake up and know that there were all sorts of rules and structures to be followed in the light of day. When she’d hugged him, when he felt the brush of her hair against his neck, he’d had the burning urge to slide his hand up her back until he could cradle her skull in his hand, tangle his fingers in that hair. His decision to let himself want her until it got old and he got over it didn’t seem to be helping matters. He was wanting her more, not less. And he was struggling with that. Beth wasn’t a little girl. No one around here thought that anymore. But she was still so young, younger than him and too sweet by half.

It was all so goddamn stupid, him getting all turned around because she’d hugged him to say thank you. And it was just as foolish to get all tangled up over what Hershel said to him. Old man was probably just talking to fill space. None of any of this mattered, it was just a pile of asinine thoughts in his head. Pretty soon he was going to get like Rick and start talking at people that weren’t there. Start having conversations with Merle, although those would be more like shouting matches, truth be told. He dog-eared the page he was on and set the book down, closing his eyes and tilting his head back. Daryl was almost starting to look forward to this run. Give him the chance to get out, clear his head a little bit. Nothing like the constant threat of getting your neck ripped out to get a man focused. Being in the prison too much was making him think about all sorts of shit, think about it too much and for too long.

And then on top of all the bullshit already in his mind, Daryl had let himself go and touch her. Yeah, just a little touch, brushing his hand across her shoulder. But it’d just happened, his hand moving before he could really think about all the reasons it was a dumbass thing to do. She looked so tired, a little more worn out than usual. And he’d just done it, like it might help make her feel better. Daryl remembered the look in her eyes. It _had_ made her happy. And he’d be lying if he said it didn’t do the same for him. All those little touches, like the brush of her hand against his, the feel of her standing near to him. And that night she pressed her hand to his arm. And then that hug. All of that was something to look forward to, hope for, on any given day. The only question was, to what fucking end?

Even before, on the rare occasion that he had a woman around for more than a night, he never got too into the extra touching. Didn’t encourage hand holding or cuddling or anything else. Seemed safer to keep a defined distance. That way, nothing got confused, nothing got too out of place. It wasn’t comfortable, having some woman wrapped around him, wrapped around arm hand or arm or nothing. Made his skin crawl, worse than that time he camped too close to a fire ant colony as a kid. All the woman from before, it’d felt like one step away from a sinkhole. One step closer to getting sucked into the sort of shit storm his mother and father had made. Best way to keep all that shit tucked away was to make sure women knew he wasn’t in it for anything more than something casual.

One woman in particular had pissed him off and he’d steered clear of hookups for a good couple months after that. Daryl had made the mistake of bringing her home, and she’d taken that as an invitation to stick around for the rest of the night. He’d gotten up immediately after the deed was done, pulling his jeans back up and tossing the used condom, and she stayed sprawled out on his sheets, getting her makeup all over his pillows. He hadn’t noticed at the bar, hadn’t noticed too much in the heat of the moment, but now that she was sucking up all the space in his tiny room, all he could smell was the cloying, chemically smell of her too-liberally applied hairspray. Hated the smell of hairspray. Made him think of burning plastic, like when he was a kid and the house had gotten all burnt up and his ma had died. He’d lit up a cigarette to try to mask the smell, but the smoke only served to make it worse.

She’d reached for him, tugging at his shirt. “Com’on, honey. Take your clothes off. Get back in bed with me.” Daryl never replied, but shifted further away from her. She kept trying to paw at him, lolling all over his bed. He kept moving out of her reach, and eventually she got fed up, got real pissed at him. “I shoulda fuckin’ known you’d turn out to be a real jackass.” She disentangled herself from his sheets, standing up and scrambling for her clothes in jerky motions. She wasn’t a bad looking woman, Daryl remembered. But he didn’t fucking know the first thing about her, other than that she had looked good and seemed all for going on home with him. Wasn’t too bright, given that she thought fucking him was an invitation to make herself at home.

Daryl remembered her tugging her jeans up over ass, shaking her dark bangs out of her eyes and mouth working furiously. “Just drop your jeans and fuck whatever moves, huh? Shirt still on? Did you even take your fucking boots off?”

He hadn’t. But Daryl wasn’t about to say that to her. He’d just stayed silent, smoking and leaning up against the peeling wallpaper in his bedroom, waiting for her to clear herself out. And after she left, he went out to his living room, turned on a movie and slept out on the couch. She’d made his sheets stink. Made his skin crawl with her questions and grabbing hands. Wasn’t none of her business if he left his shirt on while he gave it to her. Wasn’t like he was _trying_ to be mean. Just wanted her to know it wasn’t going to be anything more than what it had been. Keeping covered up was the only way he knew how.

And, if he was going to be telling the truth, there was still a part of him that was still just as uncomfortable with the touching he’d been experiencing these days, long after his nights at the bar had ended with walkers crawling all over. Thirty-five years of steering clear of feeling someone’s hands on him was the sort of habit that was pretty hard to break.

Daryl looked over at Beth, still sleeping on the library floor. Her breath still came steady and slow, and every once in a while she’d give a little sigh, a breathy and high pitched noise that tugged at him in the worst way. Yeah, he might be a little uncomfortable, thinking about being touched by a girl like Beth Greene. Still didn’t stop him from getting half-hard in the library, thinking about the little noises she made and the sight of a few inches of flat belly revealed by her shirt. All the thoughts he’d had since sitting down in the library, they all seemed to scream that he was fighting a losing battle. Didn’t matter that he was scared. Still wanted her in a thousand ways, from watching her with Lil’ Asskicker, to the look on her face when she was putting walkers down. Wanted her naked, wanted her half-clothed and pressed up against a wall. Wanted to spend his evenings listening to her talk as he fixed up his motorcycle or walked the fence. Wanted her smiles, and the weight of her heavy, hard blue gaze on him. Wanted too goddamn much, and none of it could ever all fit together for a man like him.

The last little bits of light were coming in the window, painting her skin in yellow-orange light and catching in the shimmer of her tangled hair. It was getting late, and they probably should get back to the main cell block so she could get Judy for bed and so he could go out and inspect the fence. But he didn’t really want to wake her up. That baby had been running her a bit ragged, and she could use with a little bit longer to herself. Daryl knew that Beth was the one up with the baby at night, the one that little girl wanted when she was crying. And he knew she loved that little girl, didn’t begrudge a single moment spent doting on the Lil’ Asskicker. And for that alone, she deserved a few minutes to herself, a little bit of rest from the nonstop mess going on around them all. Rest was never promised. You grabbed it when you could.

So he let her have that. Daryl watched over her, reading a little, letting her have another half hour or so of sleep. When the last of the sunlight had faded and he couldn’t see the words on the page anymore, he closed up his book. He took his time standing up, stretching his back and cracking his neck. He set his book down on the edge of the table, and slowly made his way over to her, taking care to keep his steps quiet. When he reached her side, he squatted down, only giving himself a moment to let his eyes skim down her body, over the necklace in between her breasts and a freckle just above the hem of her jeans. Daryl sighed quietly, and he felt his palms tingle again.

Fighting a losing battle, alright.

Lifting his hand, he rubbed his fingertips across one cheekbone, his hand dark and more than a little grimy looking against her pale skin. “Beth,” he said, his voice just above a whisper, but deep. Her skin was soft, softer than he’d thought, and he didn’t pull his hand right away. “Beth.”

She stirred, eyes slowly fluttering open, and he quickly pulled his hand back. “Hey,” she mumbled. Beth blinked for a minute, frowning a bit. “It’s dark. How late is it?”

“Not too late,” he said, leaning back a little as she sat up. Daryl stood, then offered his hand to help pull her up. Beth’s hand slid easily into his, and he tugged her up. She squeezed his hand before she let go, still looking a little dazed.

When she pulled her arms over her head and stretched, it pulled the material over her chest tight and caused the leather cord of her necklace to slide against the bare skin above her blouse. Daryl ducked his head, trying to avert his eyes. “Oh,” she sighed sleepily. “You never should’ve let me sleep on the floor.”

“Seemed like ya needed it,” he said, looking over to face to see if she looked rested any.

Beth gave a smile at that. “Probably right.” She smoothed a few loose curls back from her face. “Well, I guess we better go get the baby. Poor Rick is probably wondering where I went off to.”

Daryl tried not to raise his brows at her use of the word “we.” Just went along with it. “Alright,” he said. Going along with Beth was just something he’d been doing lately. Fighting a losing battle, and all that.

They walked to Rick’s cell, not really talking. Beth was humming some old Loretta Lynn number, making Daryl think about listening to the radio in his old truck. Caught himself wondering if she’d have liked the old piece of junk. Wasn’t any use in that, since it was long gone, but the image of her riding shotgun, singing along to the radio, stuck around all the same. He shoved the image to the back of his mind as they reached Rick’s cell, curling his hands up tight and cracking his knuckles with his thumbs.

“Hey, Rick, I’m sorry it’s so late. I lost track’a time,” Beth said, walking right into the man’s cell. Not feeling quite as forward about the whole thing, Daryl hung back by the door, leaning up against the cement and crossing his arms, trying to act more casual than he was feeling. Rick looked up from his book in surprise, his eyes moving first to Beth, who was scooping a sleeping Judith off Rick’s bed, where she’d been nestled in with a heap of blankets. As Beth gently cooed to the baby, picking her up and settling her in an embrace, Rick’s eyes met Daryl’s, and he could read something between surprise and curiosity in his friend’s eyes.

Daryl didn’t say anything. Didn’t nod. He just gave a small shrug, keeping his face as blank as possible.

Something strange crossed Rick’s face, something between amusement and disbelief that was a matter of raised eyebrows and twitching lips. Rick inclined his head a bit, a sort of acknowledgement that didn’t say much of anything other than that the man had taken note. But that felt good enough for Daryl. If Rick really had a problem with Daryl and Beth passing time together, he would’ve said something. Rick, even all wrapped up in his farming, wasn’t the sort of man to let something troublesome slide, no matter what he said about stepping down and stepping back. The tension in his shoulders, a tension Daryl hadn’t realized he was hanging onto, it eased up a bit. All the tiny muscles in his neck felt like they were slowly unwinding themselves. Unwinding a little, anyway.

“Alright, darlin’,” Beth said to a bleary looking Judy, “Let’s go get you in bed.” She looked over at the baby’s father, and Daryl saw she looked less drawn than she had after dinner. Still had those smudges under eyes, but at least she looked a little more serene, less harried. Daryl felt a little better about that, at least. “Good night, Rick,” she chirped.

Rick just nodded, polite smile on his face when he looked at Beth. Hadn’t said a whole word between the two of them, but that was okay with Daryl. Wasn’t anything that needed talking about, really. So Daryl just nodded right back at Rick, just ducking his head a little bit in a brief response. Nothing to be said. He hoped it’d stay that way, too. If anyone could understand that, he reckoned it’d be Rick. Both of them knew there was no sense in talking about what just _was_.

Pushing off from the wall as Beth brushed past him, baby in her arms, he followed her back to her cell, watched from the doorway in silence as she put the baby down for the night in the dim lighting of her cell. He watched the careful way she cradled the baby’s head, the way she smoothed the silky hair back from Judy’s placid face. As soon as Judy was settled, she looked up at him, a small smile on her face and pushing her hair out of her eyes with the back of her hand. He stood still for one long moment, his eyes on hers. Daryl took in the look in her eyes, still hard and gleaming, but somehow softer than he was used to seeing when she had her eyes on him. Finally, he muttered, “Night,” and she whispered it back, voice so soft he felt it more than he heard it.

And then he went off into the night to check the fences, check the doors, and make sure everything was locked up tight.


	6. Chapter Six

Her curtain was pulled aside earlier than usual that morning. The baby was still sleeping, but Beth was up and about, moving around her cell quietly as she tidied up. He probably should’ve kept moving on, given how much shit he had to do before heading out on the big run, but he stood outside her cell door for a minute all the same. Felt calmer for it.

“Hey,” Daryl said quietly when she looked up from making her bed and saw him standing there. Didn’t want to wake anyone up.

Beth gave him a small smile, straightening up. “Hey, you,” she said, just as quiet. She went over to him, and he couldn’t help but run his eyes down her body. She had her usual jeans on, but just a tight tank top above that. It was easy to tell she didn’t have a bra on, judging by the thrust of her nipples against the dark blue cotton. Daryl tried not to stare, feeling that familiar heat crawl up the back of his neck, and he shoved his hands into his pockets as he forced his eyes up to hers.

“Up early today,” he said.

Beth’s eyes scanned his, and he could tell she was trying to figure something out. “Yeah,” she said, tucking a bit of hair behind her ear. Her ponytail was falling apart, more tangled than usual. Daryl suddenly wondered if she slept with her hair pulled back like that, and he tried to remember the last time he saw it down, if he ever had at all. “Couldn’t really sleep too well,” she finally admitted, meeting his eyes. A tiny frown crossed her face.

“Lil’ Asskicker still keepin’ ya up?”

Beth looked over at her shoulder, at the baby still sleeping in her makeshift crib. “No,” she said, turning back to Daryl. “She slept good last night, for a change.”

Daryl nodded.

“How long are you gonna be out today, you think? On the run?” she asked, abruptly. Beth started tugging on her necklace, her palm of her hand brushing against the soft curve of her breast. The burning feeling got worse, spreading from the back of his neck up his face. His skin started feeling too tight for his body, all the muscles in his arms bunching as he shoved his hands further into his pockets.

Looking down at his muddy boots and frayed laces, Daryl replied. “Prob’ly not too long. Back before sunset.” He risked looking at her, squinting a bit as he forced his eyes to stay on her face, on her blue eyes. Beth was looking a little pale again, blue eyes washed out and dark circles still under her eyes. She’d looked better yesterday, the day after she’d slept a few hours in the library, but now she was looking a little like hell again.

“Not so bad,” she said.

Daryl shook his head a bit. “Nah, we’ve got a good group. We’ll be fine.”

They lapsed into silence, Beth looking tired and Daryl feeling awkward, his hands trapped in his pockets and eyes trying to avoid landing on her chest. “Better head out. Got some shit to do,” he finally said.

“Yeah,” Beth said, smiling up at him. He felt a little reassured, seeing her smile like that, even if she looked like she should be crawling back into bed and pulling the blankets over her head.

He was turning to go when Daryl felt her hand pressed against his arm, Beth’s cool hand pressed against his upper arm and her fingers suddenly digging into his skin. He looked down at that hand for a minute, so white against his tanned skin. He saw he had a big smear of grease across his bicep, just above where her hand was pressing into him. Probably from spending sunup ‘til now hunched over the car engine, double checking that everything was all tuned up.

Looking into his eyes, Beth spoke quietly still, but her words felt like they took up more space in the air than usual. “You know I don’t say good bye. An’ I _know_ I don’t have to tell you to be safe. Okay?”

Daryl thought of that night by the fences, when he chucked the bird necklace from Zach over the fence. He thought of her voice that night, low and hard, as she told him she didn’t want to be afraid of wanting something good. Beth sounded the same then as she did now, her words felt heavier than he even knew what to do with. Her eyes, all washed out before, had darkened, and her pink lips were slightly parted as she stared at his face.

“I know,” he said. And he let himself look back at her, let his eyes stay on hers. Let her look right at him with those blue eyes that were always trying to read him. Daryl felt that part of him, the one that always wanted to run whenever she turned that hard look on him. But he let his shoulders go slack all the same, felt the tightness in his arms unwind and it wasn’t a struggle to keep his eyes trained on her. His belly still clenched, and he couldn’t tell if it was fear or the way Beth’s tank top was stretched over her chest. Maybe both. So Daryl just kept his eyes on her face, his eyes watching hers just as she watched his.

Daryl felt the bite of her fingernails digging into his skin, briefly, before she pulled her hand away. “Alright,” Beth said, nodding her head. She still wore that hard look, but she looked a little calmer, and after a moment, she finally gave him a real smile. His arm was on fire where she had touched it, burning and stinging from her touch and the scratch of her nails.

“Alright,” he agreed softly.

…

Daryl slammed the side of his fist against the car window. Not hard enough to break it, just enough to hear a satisfying _thunk_ , just enough for his skin to sting on impact.

Everything about that run had gone to shit, and he didn’t even know how the fuck it had happened. He sat in stony silence as Glenn drove back to the prison with both hands white knuckled on the steering wheel, Michonne in the backseat, her eyes constantly scanning the sides of the road and checking on the car behind them, the one with Sasha and Bob. The one Zach was _supposed_ to be sitting in. Daryl stared out the window, his head pounding and eyes narrowed against the glaring sunlight. Didn’t say a goddamn word the whole trip, just sat in silence. Glenn looked like he was still sweating bullets, and Michonne had that wild look in her dark eyes. Daryl had Rick in the back of his mind the whole time he sat in silence. He knew that if Rick were here, he’d say something to keep everyone in the car from suffocating over their failed mission and fallen friend. Also knew damnwell that he _wasn’t_ Rick. Didn’t have shit to say, and wasn’t about to start trying.

So the car was silent when they pulled into the prison yard. A few people were waiting for them by the time they had parked and were getting out of the car. Maggie made an immediate beeline for Glenn. Daryl took one look at the small cluster of people gathered in the yard, saw Carl’s disappointment and the look of stony disapproval on Carol’s face. Saw some faces he didn’t really recognize too well, just knew that they were the faces of people that lived here, people that he was supposed to _do_ something for. Didn’t see Rick, Beth, or Hershel, and he didn’t know if he was mad or relieved about that.

And Daryl took off for his corner of the yard. Nobody came up to him, nobody came after him. He stomped along, an ache in his jaw, roughly digging around in his vest for his lighter and holding an unlit cigarette between his lips. When Daryl finally found his lighter jammed into some inside pocket, he lit up his cigarette real quick, sucking in a lungful of smoke and then breathing it out in one long, frustrated huff. When he finally reached the silent, rusty mess of his little junk yard, he shrugged off his crossbow and set it against the big tool chest, balancing it carefully before blindly throwing his empty bag onto the pavement in the opposite direction.

Daryl surveyed the fences for a minute, taking in the half a dozen or so walkers clawing at the fences like a pack of rabid and riled up raccoons, and his fingers found their way to the knife on this belt, wrapping around the worn handle. Weren’t too many walkers yet, though before the end of the week, someone would have to pick them off and burn ‘em. Turning his back on the fences, Daryl looked around at his all his gear, the assortment of pilfered shit, some of it rusty, some of it nicer than he’d ever worked with before. He shrugged his shoulders a couple of times, blindly staring at the prison, trying to work out the tightness left behind by too much spent adrenaline.

Turning his back to the prison and looking around, he decided to work on an Oldsmobile he’d found a while back, check all the brake lines and gas lines and inspect the undercarriage for rust or damage. Rick and Tyrese had helped Daryl get it lifted on some shitty but hopefully stable ramps a couple of days ago, but he hadn’t had a chance to do anything with it until now. He dug around in his box, finding the small flashlight. He tossed his leather jacket on top of the open chest, the damn thing was making him too warm and made him feel like he was wrapped up too tight. The muscles in his shoulders still buzzed, but he got down on the ground and worked his way under the front of the car, not feeling the bite of the too hot, gravelly pavement through his worn out shirt or even on his bare arms.

He must’ve been poking around for a good forty-five minutes, getting rusty, oily muck flaking down on him as he tried to go over the gas and brake lines, when he heard the sound of steady, heavy footfalls making their way towards him. He had a pretty good guess who it was, judging by the regular, confident cadence of boots on gravel.

“How’s the brake lines look?” asked Rick from somewhere above Daryl’s feet.

“Good’nough.” He ran one grimy thumb over a rod, trying to clean it off better and squinted when debris fell towards his face, skittering across one cheekbone.

“Lori had a car like this, back when we were first married. Ran real good for a long time, ‘til she ran it into a lamp post in a parking lot.” Rick sounded almost amused by the memory.

Daryl didn’t say anything, just let the silence stretch out. He had the soft sounds of him poking around the dirty undercarriage, Rick scuffing his boots. There was the sound of people out in the yard, talking and working in the distance. And beyond that, the constant sound of walkers, growling and snapping as they clung to the chain link fence like their miserable shithead selves depended on it.

Rick finally spoke up again. Without looking, Daryl knew exactly what he’d be doing: squinting up at the sky, hands in his back pockets as he spoke.   “Glenn told me what happened on the run. It’s a damn shame. About Zach. And about the place.”

_Damn shame_. The words echoed in Daryl’s head, and he grunted in reply, left hand tightening around the flashlight and his right forefinger scraping against some jagged bit of metal or something. He swore under his breath, shifting a bit and pulling his hand back and jamming it into his mouth, sucking at the small bit of welling blood.

Was a helicopter falling through a fucking building he’d been counting on using for a long time a _damn shame_? Watching Zach getting his face chewed off, after wanting to punch the kid for weeks now, a _damn shame_? Was knowing that he’d led a whole bunch of people into an unstable situation a _damn shame_? Knowing he had nothing to show for it a _damn shame_? Whole fucking world was a _damn shame_ , then, wasn’t it? Nothing to show for any of it. Just one more goddamn time his plans went to shit. And nothing to say to anybody. Nothing but Rick’s words.

“Yeah,” Daryl finally bit out. “Damn fuckin’ shame.”

He heard Rick sigh, probably still squinting into the hazy sky. “I’m about to head in for dinner. You comin’?”

“Nah.”

“Alright, man.” Rick sounded quiet, maybe a little tired.

Daryl kept on poking around until he was sure Rick was well and gone, though he wasn’t even pretending to look at the gas lines anymore. Just angrily jamming his fingers into the little gaps and open spots in the car, breathing in the dirty air trapped under the car, the acrid smell of old oil and rust burning into his lungs. When he was sure the man had cleared out, he slid out from under the car, rubbing his hands off on his pants with short, jerky strokes as he stood and then angrily swiping at the grime sticking to his sweaty face. He stared at the car in front of him, the dented front end and the long scratch running across the passenger side door. Car sort of looked like a piece of shit, but he’d wanted it anyway, because it was an older car, a heavy one, back before everyone got all worked up over emissions and gas prices. All that ecosystem-green-friendly shit didn’t mean nothing these days. He’d just wanted a big car, a heavy car that could take a little heat better than one of those tinfoil little cars people had been getting partial to before herds of walkers started taking over the roads. So when he’d found this one a while back, he’d been happy to get it in working order and bring it back to the prison with him. It had sort of reminded Daryl of his old truck in a way. Big old heap of metal. Not so fucking pretty, but _reliable_. That was the sort of thing they needed around here.

Only now, he didn’t give as much of a shit about fixing it up as he used to. He’d been hoping to get to work on it for some time now. Beth loved the damn thing. Thought it was fucking cute or some shit, with its big hood and funny maroon color. Now all he wanted to do was yank out the brake lines and tip the thing on its side. Growling a bit, he settled for kicking the tire. First just once, then again a little harder, and then a few more times.

Didn't take Daryl long to finally give up on that, though, and ended up leaning forward and bracing his hands against the broad hood of the car. He huffed out a breath, feeling all that adrenaline from earlier today running through him all over again. He felt that old pain running across his shoulders and down his spine, the tension in his muscles making his skin ache and pull tight against his bones. Felt old scars, even, the marks across his back, the starburst where his own arrow had gone into his side and the slick scar where Andrea’s bullet had grazed his skull. His fingers felt stiff, like if he picked up his crossbow right now he wouldn’t even be able to crook his finger to fire off a single goddamn bolt. And what was the fucking use of _that_?

And just as suddenly as it had burned through his body, moving through his blood, the adrenaline seemed to fall out of him, and he slumped. He turned around and sat his ass and feet flat on the pavement, leaning up against the car, tilting his head back and shutting his eyes. And he tried to blank out, tried to slow the windstorm inside his brain. But he just kept seeing that stupid kid’s fucking face, distorted with pain, one bloodstained hand reaching out, like it wasn't too late for him to be saved. And he kept hearing Rick’s voice, saying _damn shame_. And felt Beth’s fingernails digging into his arm, heard her saying she didn’t have to tell him to be careful. He kept seeing that helicopter crashing through that roof. Glenn’s panicked face.

Damn shame. Nothing to show for it. Not even the fucking body of some poor kid. Just his own empty hands.

Daryl didn’t know how long he sat there, trying and failing to stomp down on the tangled mess in his head. Just kept his eyes closed, head back and tried to keep his breath coming one steady moment at a time. Forearms corded on his kneecaps, fists clenching and unclenching in some sort of rhythm. Kept it up alright enough, until he heard another set of feet, slow and light, coming towards him. Cowboy boots on pavement. He tensed right back up, but cracked one eye anyways.

“Hey,” Beth said, quiet and low, arms crossed tight to her chest. The sun had fallen pretty low in the sky, and orangey light and shadows were falling across her face. Eyes hard as ever, watching him carefully.

“Don’t have to fuckin’ tell me to be careful.”

Beth’s lips parted, the pink tip of her tongue darting out and brushing against her lips. “Daryl—”

He cut her off, opening up both eyes and holding his head back up, staring her down. “What do you want?”

She exhaled his name on a sigh, making something tangled up inside his ribcage squeeze painfully. Beth got even closer, and then sat herself right down next to him, mimicking him by pulling her knees up to her chest. Her thigh rubbed up against his, her soft arm pressing right up against his bare one. And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, she laid her head on his shoulder, nuzzling close. Daryl felt her cheek and chin pressed right to his skin, the barest, tiniest brush of the corner of her mouth against his arm as she got comfortable. The muscles in his shoulders and arms bunched up again, and he sucked in a deep breath. Wanted to say something, but he didn’t have a single thought in his mind anymore, so he just exhaled one long, shaky breath.   Daryl dropped his head a little, letting his cheek brush against the top of her head.

“Just wanted to see how you were doing. I always come find you, don’t I?”

Her voice was soft, sounded a little like a song. He kept his eyes shut, and replied. “Yeah, guess you do.”

Daryl felt her fingertips on his forearm, skating up and down and back and forth, nails scraping against his skin. “What happened?” she asked. And the way she asked even felt good to his ears. Something matter of fact in the sound of her words made him feel like there was just something to be talked about, something to be looked at and figured out and put to rest.

“Don’t really know how it all happened. Just… one minute, everythin’s fine.” He paused, cracking his knuckles. “And then some big crash has got Bob trapped. Walkers comin’ out of everywhere. Zach gets bit, Bob barely makes it. An’ then the whole fuckin’ roof’s caving in. Barely made it out.” Beth’s hand stilled on his arm, and she squeezed before letting up and going back to tracing shapes on his skin, a figure-eight pattern that kept getting smaller and smaller. She didn’t say anything, but she sort of hummed a bit, just a throaty, uneven melody that he sort of remembered her signing to Judy before. It was a little like a lullaby, but not, because she never really sang those to the girl. Just old country rock or folk music. High, sweet voice like hers, it didn't matter what words she sang. Always sounded good to him, and everybody else.

They sat in silence for a little while. Daryl kept his eyes closed, and he finally managed to drown out and cover up all the nonstop thoughts in his head. Slowly replaced the sounds of rabid walkers with the quiet humming. Didn’t think about Zach’s face as he screamed for help, just thought of her fingers drifting aimlessly across his skin. And all the pounding blood and adrenaline quieted down with the feel of her face pressed to his shoulder. He felt the air getting cooler, could practically feel the sun setting around them. He still felt warm, though, with Beth pressed up against him, their arms rubbing and knees pressed together. He opened up his eyes when he finally started to really breathe easy. Opened up his eyes in time to watch the last little bit of sunset, purple and blue sky with the red and orange light just melting behind the tree line. The half-full curve of the moon was slowly coming into focus.

“Hey,” Beth said. “First star. Gotta make a wish.” She pointed to a tiny prick of light just to his left.

Daryl twisted his head a little to look at it. Tiny little thing, just barely peeping out of the purple edge of the sky. “I gotta?”

“Yes,” she said. But her firm stance was a little undermined by the laughter in her voice. He felt her lips brushing against his skin again as she talked.

Daryl made a hmm’ing noise. Didn’t make a wish, looking up at the star. But he felt grateful. Grateful for the small body tucked next to his, for the sound of her singing and the way she looked at him. Grateful for those blue eyes that fell on his skin like a cold, heavy rain. Might not be a wish, but he figured being thankful was enough of one.

“Make a wish?” he asked.

“Mmhmm,” she said, sounding pleased. Beth lifted her head, and he the cool air hit his skin. “I think there might be some dinner left. We could go on in and raid the kitchens. Pauline would let you get away with it. She loves you best.”

Daryl smiled a little at that. “Alright,” he said. He pushed himself to his feet, then turned around and gave her his hand. Her hand slid right into his, and she smiled as he yanked her to her feet. Beth pitched forward a bit as she stood, leaning towards him, and he put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. She looked up at him, her lips parted a bit, and her blue eyes didn’t have the same hardness as usual. They looked more open than usual, really, like looking at old glass bottles, the light blue tinted kind that caught the sun just right and shone all but clear. His hands started sliding down her arms on their own, and he could feel her shiver under his palms. Her eyes stayed on his, though, even as his fingers brushed her own.

Daryl let his hands drop to his sides, but he couldn’t find it in himself to step away from her. Just felt that same burning he’d been feeling for over a damn month. Felt himself getting hard as he thought about pulling her close and running his hands over her. Thought about finally pressing his palm to a breast and feeling what he’d seen this morning. Thought about finally getting to tangle his hands in her hair and pulling her head back so he could see what she’d taste like if he put his mouth on hers. Thought about what it could be like to get one of her legs up and over his hip, getting her pressed up against him right where he wanted her. Her breath hitched beautifully, and he thought about all the ways he could try and make that sound fall from her lips again.

Daryl thought about a ton of shit, but didn’t do a goddamn thing. Took a quick step back and looked over at the walkers groaning against the fence. “Better get inside.”

Her eyes were still that clear blue glass, and he could read something like confusion in them as he took a quick, sidelong glance at her. Whatever that something was, it made her pull her eyebrows together and lips twist into a frown. “Yeah,” she answered.

Daryl brushed past her, making his way towards the prison and slinging his bow over his shoulder. He could hear her cowboy boots tap on the pavement as she took a few quick steps to keep up with him, and he automatically shortened his stride for her. They walked in silence up to the prison, just the sound of their boots on the pavement, the constant moans and rasps of the walkers behind them. The big metal door creaked as he opened it up, angling his head in to usher her inside. And the door clanged shut with finality and they were back inside.

The kitchen and cafeteria was all deserted. Pauline had left a plate on the long counter, covered with a bandana and a little note with his name written in her schoolteacher-cursive on it. Daryl set his crossbow on the counter, angling it away from them, and picked up the plate. Turning back, he braced his hips against the counter, leaning back and holding the plate with one hand. Beth went into the pantry and returned with a handful of slightly stale cookies, handing them all off to him but one. He dug into his lumpy cornbread and cold beans as Beth pulled herself up to sit on the counter next to him, munching on her chocolate chip cookie. Daryl didn’t say anything, just watched from the corner of his eye as Beth swung her feet a little bit. He polished off his food and set his plate and fork down on the counter, wiped his hands off on his jeans. Daryl sighed, listening to the quiet sounds of the prison, some folks talking in the distance. It all sounded hushed tonight, like everyone had retreated to talk in quiet. Talk to the people they cared about. It was always like this when someone didn’t come back. Quiet, air heavy with discomfort and fear. And he was starting to wish he hadn’t come back inside.

“Beth,” he said, staring straight ahead at the slightly ajar pantry door.

Must’ve been something about the empty, tomb-like quality of the empty kitchen, silent pots all hung up on hooks and counters spotless and all wiped down. Must’ve been something about the weight of the air, both of them staring straight ahead. Something about not seeing her face, not feeling her eyes on him for a change.

“Beth. What are we doin’, here?” He stayed staring straight ahead, at the ajar door of the pantry, all the shelves meticulously arranged and labeled.

“Eatin’ dinner, I guess,” she said, and he could almost see her shrugging.

The big bin of flour. Spare boxes of cornmeal. The creak of a door echoing in from the cafeteria. “That ain’t what I meant.” His voice was quiet, gravelly sounding, even to him. Daryl finally turned his head to look at her, his arms still crossed over his chest. Beth had her hands wrapped around the edge of the counter, and her feet stilled as she raised her eyes to his. “You followin’ me around. You lookin’ at me like you do.” He took a breath. “What happened with Zach. You lettin’ me throw that damn necklace over the fence. Touchin’ me the way you do. And me... lettin’ you.”

Beth’s eyes were hard and soft all at once. In the uncertain, dim light of the gloomy kitchen, one minute they were like that pale blue glass, shining clear. And then in another, they were hard blue rock. “I’m doin’ all that because I wanted to. _Want_ to. Ain’t that the same reason you’re _lettin_ ’ me?”

Daryl looked straight ahead again. Studied the dented stainless steel cabinets in front of him, the clean, colorful rags hanging from them. “Beth, what is it you’re askin’ of me?”

He heard her sigh. Heard the rustle of her jeans as she slid down from the countertop, the sound of her boots hitting the tile. And the she was in front of him, looking up at him with baby blue eyes and something earnest written across her face. One hand reaching out to curl into the fabric of his shirt, her fist pressed up to his abdomen.

“I’m askin’ you to give this a chance.” Beth’s voice was quiet, but there was something strong in her voice. Something stark. Something asking him for things he didn’t have in him.

So he did what was safe and forced a bark of laughter, leaning back away from her because the sight of her pretty face, his necklace around her neck, the warm, clean scent of her, all of it was killing him. “Give _what_ a chance?”

Beth’s eyes went hard and cold, colder than he could remember seeing since the day out by the fences, picking off walkers. She dropped her hand from his shirt. “I’m not stupid, Daryl. And I know I’m not makin’ this up in my head. I know that we—”

“You don’ know shit.” He didn’t raise his voice, because he didn't have to. Just let that junk-yard-dog bite into it. A warning.

“ _Why_ are you tryin’ to keep me at arm’s length?”

Daryl thought about the awful sound of that helicopter falling through the roof, crashing into everything around him. Thought about how fucking close death always was. And he heard Merle’s growling in the back his head. Shuttered his mind to thoughts of stabbing his brother in the face until nothing but pink-grey mush was left. Shut out thoughts of Sophia, shot through the skull and decaying body resting with all of the walkers Beth’s daddy had tried to save.

So Daryl met her eyes straight on, cold blue on cold blue. “Can’t give somethin’ a chance if there’s nothin’ there.” And he pushed away from the counter, grabbing his crossbow and pushed past her, his shoulder knocking into hers. His hand moved on its own, his hand skating low across her belly as he gently moved her aside, showing the lie to the way he’d barreled into her. Daryl felt the hot burn of her eyes on his back as he walked away, and he growled one last thing before walking out of the kitchen. “Just leave well enough alone, Beth.”

…

A handful of hours had passed since he’d left Beth behind in the kitchen, time he’d first spent walking the fences and avoiding any of the few people walking around the prison. Carol had seen him and they’d had a few tense words, but she’d seemed distracted and didn’t press him too much about his black mood. Which was fine with him.

Daryl spent a little while in his cell, cleaning and inspecting his bolts and crossbow, as well as sharpening up his knives. The repetitive tasks kept his hands busy. Meant he was doing something useful, which didn’t make him feel any worse. Tried to keep his eyes on his hands, on the steel edge of his knife or the fletching of his bolts. But it was all shit he’d done the night before. And it wasn’t something that really calmed the burning in his belly, didn’t stop him from thinking about sliding his hands down Beth’s arms as she shivered in the cold night air out by the cars. Wiping down bolts didn’t stop him from seeing the challenge in her eyes when she got right in front of him in the kitchen. And sorting through bullets didn’t stop him from hearing her voice, asking him to give her a chance. None of it stopped him from knowing she was offering something more than just passing time for a few hours after dinner. Daryl knew damn well what she wanted, just as he knew he wanted to take her up on her offer right there in the empty kitchen. He could’ve just set her right back up on that counter, pushed himself between her legs. Could’ve put one hand on the back of her neck and in her hair and let the other slide up her shirt and feel all that soft skin underneath.

And none of his imaginings about what he could’ve done stopped him from thinking that he knew she wanted more from him than _that_. He’d already been giving into her more than he should. Cared more about her than he should. Wanted her more than he should. But Daryl knew, the way you could feel a storm coming, that he couldn’t even fucking put into words what it was that she really wanted from him. Beth wanted things from him he didn’t understand. She bewildered him, with all the things she’d say and the way she looked at him. And how was he supposed to do a damn thing for her if he could untangle any of what she even wanted in the first place? It was fucking asinine to entertain thoughts of being around her. Tonight was just the start of all the ways he could disappoint her. If he’d let himself get any closer to her, he only would’ve made it worse. Made it harder for him to leave all that blonde sunshine and heat behind. Because sooner or later, shit would hit the fan in one way or another. Wasn’t that what today was all about? Daryl knew he was good for a few things: taking out walkers, stealing what he and his people needed to survive. Wasn’t really any good at leading people, not like Rick. Wasn’t good at talking with anyone, either, or sharing space. Yeah, he and Beth had stolen a few nice minutes here and there. But this was a shit world, and he was a shit excuse for a good man. And, sooner or later, all that shit would hit the fucking fan.

Wasn’t that what today was all about? Today was all about the helicopter crashing through the roof of an abandoned grocery store. Today was watching some kid that had only ever wanted to be good to Beth get ripped apart by walkers, just for trying to help out. Today was pushing away one of the few people that had ever looked at him like he might have something to give her apart from some tough squirrel meat, dead walkers at the gate and a whole hell of a lot of aggravation. Daryl was just looking at the world around him. Looking at himself, looking at Beth, pretty even in the gloom of the prison. He was looking at all that, and doing the right thing and walking away.

It probably well past midnight when he finally set aside his knives and the spare bolts he’d been collecting, judging by the dark sky outside. The whole place was always like a fucking tomb after someone died or got left behind, just echoes of noises that didn’t really sound like people moving around or talking or sleeping. It was nights like this when he wasn’t sure which was any better: wandering the corridors for ages or staring up at his cracked ceiling and hoping for sleep. Daryl always ended up walking the cellblock, but he never felt any better for it, just knew it was something that had to be done. So he swung his crossbow over his shoulder and checked to be sure he had a knife or two in his pockets, and headed off to walk around the block.

C-block was quieter than usual, like he expected it to be. Just heavy, sighing snores and whispery murmurs, cutting through the heavy grey air. No laughter from Carl’s cell, no psalms from Hershel’s. No squeaking springs from Maggie and Glenn. And no hushed singing from Beth’s.

Seemed strange that, just this morning, Daryl had been standing right outside Beth’s cell, talking to her and looking at the sight her body made, all soft curves and warm skin. Strange she’d looked at him with those cool blue eyes just a few hours ago, daring him to take a chance. And it was strange that, for once, he’d told a lie for some good, and told her he didn’t feel any of it. Told her he didn’t feel any of the heaviness in her eyes, pulling him towards her. Told her to drop it.

Daryl leaned against the wall just outside Beth’s cell. Crossed his arms. And he looked out at the big windows across the way, filtering in some faint starlight and a slight beam of moonlight through the thick glass. He felt like shit. Head throbbed, legs and arms ached. But he still felt thankful, the way he had looking up at the first star coming into the night sky. Thankful he was alive. Thankful _she_ was alive. Daryl let his eyes slide shut, let himself remember how Beth felt, curled up against him out by that car. Let himself remember how she felt when he ran his hands down her arms, when his fingers almost curled around hers.

The whole place was quiet around him. Daryl knew he should walk on, recheck the doors and locks and go on to bed. But he stayed, letting the throb in his head overpower the silence all around him. Stayed outside her cell with his eyes shut, one hand curled around the strap of his crossbow, the other fist curling and uncurling against his thigh. He’d go on, do what he had to do in just a little while. But for the moment, for just a few goddamn seconds, he was going to pretend he’d made a wish on that tiny star. Pretend he had given in and given his time with Beth a chance. Just a few goddamn seconds before everything went back to normal. Back to the way it had been, back before he’d given her that book and she’d told him how pissed she was that he’d left. Back before fixing up her necklace and throwing Zach’s over the fence. Back before they laid out on the pavement together, and back before she’d wrapped her arms around him. Just a few goddamn seconds to pretend he hadn’t fucked everything up.

Just a few goddamn seconds to pretend that he’d kissed Beth Greene.


	7. Chapter Seven

Daryl could see Maggie and Beth over Glenn’s shoulder, eating breakfast and talking. He crammed huge spoonfuls of oatmeal into his mouth as he watched them, only listening with half an ear to Glenn and Rick talking about the day’s plans. Glenn hadn’t said anything when Maggie didn’t join him for the meal, hadn’t reacted at all when she and her sister sat way on the opposite side of the cafeteria. It wasn’t normal. Glenn and Maggie were always up each other’s asses. But there was Maggie, gesturing with her hands as she talked to her sister. And Glenn was sitting across from Rick and Daryl, chatting casually about fixing up the pigpen like this was the usual seating arrangement. He felt all the muscles in his back and belly tightening as blood pounded through him. Not like rage, though. Something different, something more like running for too long and waiting for the muscles to tear themselves from the bone. He wiped his mouth with his rag, pulling in a deep lungful of air, and then another. Then dove back into the last of his oatmeal when the simmering in his belly had cooled a little.

Daryl watched her closely as she fed the baby, Judy sitting up in her high chair and fighting Beth over every spoonful of mushy cereal. Beth had her hair pulled back from her face and hanging over her shoulder, the same mass of soft, clean hair that had brushed across his arm two nights ago when she'd laid her head on his shoulder. Sunlight streaked in through the windows, falling in bright panes of light over her bare arms and the clean white of her t-shirt, light glinting off her yellow hair. Beth looked good, cooing at the baby with her pink mouth in a perfect _o_ , her thin body perched on the edge of her seat, one arm raised and moving a spoon towards the little girl’s mouth. She looked elegant doing it, like some kind of dancer, the gentle lines of her arm and the bend of her elbow, a careful balance as she fed the baby. She would pull her arm back to the table, wrist moving quickly as she spooned up more grey-white mush, and then the dance would begin again, spoon angling at Lil’ Asskicker’s mouth, the smooth motions of her forearm swaying the food back and forth to entice the baby. He couldn’t hear what she said, but she turned to face her sister for a minute, pink lips moving quickly and baby blue eyes rolling. Daryl scraped the sides of his bowl noisily, interrupting Rick.

“Are ya just about ready to get a move on?” he asked, looking between Glenn and Rick while shoving the last remnants of his breakfast into his mouth. “It’s gettin’ late.”

Rick and Glenn shared a look, which didn’t go unnoticed by Daryl, but they started eating more quickly all the same. He knew it was still pretty damn early. Most folks hadn’t even made it down to breakfast, but that was fine by him. Daryl was hoping to get outside and start working before Hershel came on down to the cafeteria.

After what felt like too long, Rick and Glenn finished up their breakfast. “Alright,” Glenn said. “Let me just say goodbye to Maggie. I’ll catch up.” They all stood, Rick gathering up their dishes to drop them off in the kitchen. Daryl made a beeline for the door and leaned his back and hips up against bar, pressing it open a handful of inches and leaning slightly into the sun-bright yard. He watched as Glenn ambled over to Maggie, both of the sisters looking up at his approach and Lil’ Asskicker waving around fists covered in clumps of baby food. Beth’s eyes fell from Glenn and he felt her gaze move to him, dark blue irises pinning him down and the flicker of her eyes sweeping him from head to toe. He studied her, too, watched her draw in a deep breath, chest moving up and down and the sunlight hitting the silver hearts hanging from her neck. Saw her hips shift in her seat as her shoulders fell. Daryl ground his teeth together, pushing the door open some more, moving further into the yard and taking his eyes off of her. Still felt her eyes on him, though, and he crossed his arms and looked up at the bright morning sun, squinting but not turning away from the blinding light until green-black spots in front of his eyes threatened to blot out the sun.

He turned his gaze back into the cafeteria in time to catch Rick walking towards him, back from dropping the dishes off in the kitchens. After one last kiss, Glenn made his way over to the two men by the door pushing his hair back from his eyes. “’Bout time,” Daryl grumbled as he pushed the door open the rest of the way, shoving out into the light of the yard, Rick and Glenn following.

They made their way over to Rick's crops, planning on tinkering with the irrigation system a bit. Daryl kept to himself, although Rick and Glenn kept up a conversation about trying to find some solar panels and where and how they should be set up. The work was mindless, for the most part, and he found himself getting stuck on the sight of Beth Greene from across the cafeteria, staring him down. He hadn’t spoken to her for going on two days now, though he’d been keeping an eye on her and he’d felt her eyes on him in return. Daryl couldn’t help but think of the new distance he’d put between them, mostly because he felt it constantly, like the tired rub of his crossbow strap against his shoulder, pressing into his skin and leaving marks. Only this was a less welcome sort of ache.

Yesterday, the day after he’d told Beth he didn’t feel anything for her, he’d spent most of his day like he was today, hiding out in the yard with Rick and Glenn. He’d thought about going out hunting, but wasn’t too keen on leaving the prison at the moment, not so soon after that run going to complete shit. Spending all this time out with the plants, he could almost understand why Rick never wanted to get outside of the walls. Almost. Even knowing just how dangerous it was, Daryl still needed to get out of the gates from time to time, needed to feel the air on his face as he rode his bike down some crumbling state highway. Needed to get out and know he was doing his part, filling his role. Rick had his role, and Daryl had his. Everyone did. But today wasn’t about that. Today was about trying to work out the extra thoughts in his mind, maybe trying to figure out where to go from here. They’d find a new place to raid. And he’d figure out a way to sit in a cafeteria and not feel like he was burning alive, looking at Beth.

Daryl had hauled himself back under the Oldsmobile after dinner yesterday. The whole time he’d been checking the brake lines, he’d been listening, hoping to hear the sounds of her boots on the pavement. She never came out, of course, and he stayed out under that goddamn car until it was too dark to see his own hand in front of his face. And when he went back inside, he repeated what he’d done the night before. Cleaned his weapons, did his rounds. And then he sat outside Beth’s cell for a little while, listening to her sing to the baby, her voice sleep-slurred and heavy but gradually lightening as she crooned her way through some Tom Waits. Sitting out in the middle of the cellblock, not making a damn sound, he could almost imagine her, moving around in the dim light of her cell with the baby in her arms. Barely more than a few feet from him, but he may as well have been on the other side of the fence for all the good that did him. Even still, Daryl knew he’d probably end up doing the same thing tonight. Sitting outside her cell and pretending he hadn’t gone and fucked it all up by asking her about them in the first place.

Daryl must’ve cursed out loud or something, fumbling with the clamp on a couple of jerry-rigged-together hoses, because he heard Glenn heave a dramatic sigh behind him.

“What?” he snapped, swiveling his head around to find that both men were staring at him, Rick with a coil of hose over his shoulder, and Glenn leaning against a shovel.

The younger man raised his eyebrows, scoffing a little. “You’ve been a dick for the last two days. Beth and Maggie have retreated into sister mode, getting all angry talking about boys they dated in the tenth grade and finishing each other’s sentences. I haven’t messed up lately.” Glenn looked at Daryl expectantly.

“And?” Daryl prompted turning around to look more fully at the two men. Rick just had a blank look on his face, eyes moving between Daryl and Glenn. For his part, Daryl focused on keeping his face neutral as he stared at both of them in turn.

“Whatever, man,” Glenn. “Just don’t make the mistake of thinking you’re smarter or more stubborn than either of them.” The younger man’s lips curled up into a wicked grin as he wiped sweat off his forehead. “Those girls will mow you down.”

Getting back to his work, Daryl thought about what Glenn said. Stubborn. Beth was that, he was realizing. She’d found her way to him every day for weeks on end. She’d stared him down that night in the kitchen, curled her tiny hand into his shirt and flat out told him to reconsider. And just today, she’d ran her eyes over him until he was the one to duck away. Girl like that probably _could_ eat him alive. She’d already been eating away at him for weeks, months.

After a time, Pauline brought out some lunch for them. Glenn went back inside, wanting to eat with Maggie, but Rick and Daryl stayed outside, parking themselves in a bit of shade by the garden. Shortly after the two men had sat down to eat, the big door opened and Beth, holding Judy, went on out to the yard, a handful of kids trailing after her. Two of the older kids were shuffling along and hefting baskets with both hands, and a couple smaller ones had blankets draped over their arms and trailing on the pavement. Carol brought up the rear, making sure the door shut behind her and keeping an eye on the kids as they raced off to a grassy patch of the yard a little away from Rick’s crops, laughing and whooping as they went speeding past Beth.

Daryl and Rick both watched as the blankets were spread out and baskets emptied, Beth and Carol supervising as the kids set up a picnic. The group was far away, meaning he couldn’t see too much, just the white of her t-shirt and the yellow of her hair. Saw a pink blob with a mop of dark hair squirming in her arms as she settled down on the blankets next to Carol. Daryl could tell the sunlight was hitting all over Beth’s bare arms, probably making her flush a little, maybe making her freckles pop. He wondered about her necklace, if it was swaying against her chest, or if she had it tucked into her shirt. Wondered about the look on her face, the shape of her mouth as she looked down at the little girl in her arms. Wondered how her skin would feel, if he could press his palm to the small of her back, slip has hand just under her shirt and slide his fingers over her sun-warm skin.

“She’s good with kids, isn’t she?” Rick said, breaking into Daryl’s reverie. “Good to have her looking after Judith.”

Daryl grunted, looking down and swishing the water around in his water bottle before downing a huge gulp.

“You can’t blame us for being curious, man.” Daryl turned, looking at Rick a little incredulously. Rick had a small grin on his face.

Daryl looked back over at the little picnic, watching Beth mediate some sort of argument between two little boys, Judith balanced on her hip and ponytail swinging as she shook her head emphatically at them. “Nothin’ to be curious about.”

The two of them lapsed into silence, chewing their hard cornbread and watching the pile of kids. Some walkers moved down the fence, drawn in by the sound of the children hollering and talking over one another, but there weren’t too many at the moment. Just have to keep his eye on it, maybe pick some off when the kids weren’t looking.

“You know, it never made too much sense to me,” Rick began again. “You and her.” Daryl turned back, and Rick met his eyes, looking back at him with that earnest cop look he hadn’t seen in a while. That look Rick used when he had something to say and wanted people to listen. “It started to, though. Beth’s strong. Does what she has to. Same as you, just in different ways.” Daryl nodded, sorting through Rick’s words. “You’re less of a dick around her, anyway,” the older man finished, laughing a little as he borrowed some words from Glenn.

“Told her no,” Daryl finally said, looking back over at the kids, now swarming around Beth, cheering about something.

“Think we all figured on something like that, man,” Rick offered.

They fell back into silence, finishing off their meals and sitting still for a moment, enjoying a small breeze that kept them from getting too hot. They both noticed Glenn at the same time, walking towards them across the yard, dragging his feet because Maggie was hanging onto his hand.

Rick took a deep breath, looking out at the walkers hanging onto the fence, and began to talk quietly, not looking at Daryl. “I told Lori no. And I never really had a chance to take it back. Maybe me and her were never good together. Maybe me and her were never going to have enough time to work all that out. But I could’ve told her yes, and I never did.”

Daryl looked over at Rick, taking in the man’s profile, sitting on the ground and staring out at the walkers clinging to the fence, the sheriff's thumb and trigger finger twitching. Rick turned to him, meeting his eyes, and not hiding from it. Rick didn’t have that wild look, not like he used to, but there was a flicker of regret in the man’s pale eyes, something that reminded Daryl of Rick screaming into the cellblock all those months ago. He huffed out a breath through his nose, feeling that old ache settle on his shoulders.

Glenn finally reached the men, flopping down on the grass across from the other men and waving at Maggie, who was walking over to join Carol and Beth with the kids. Rick and Daryl looked over at Glenn, both their faces composed, like they'd never been talking about how any of them could be gone at any minute.

“Alright,” Glenn said. “What are we doing this afternoon, guys?”

Daryl looked over at Glenn, keeping his face impassive. “You’re shovelin’ pig shit and Rick and I are gonna go back on inside an’ take a break.”

Glenn shot Daryl a dirty look. “Ha, ha,” he replied, drily, cracking a smile all the same. He looked over at Rick for a real answer.

“We’re all shoveling pig shit,” Rick answered. Glenn groaned, and Daryl bit down on his grin. But he reckoned Glenn knew, anyways.

…

Daryl was sitting in the dim library, twisting a bolt between his fingers and staring off into the distance, blankly surveying the fraying dictionaries across the room. He’d been in here since dinner ended, started out trying to read more of that book, but quickly gave up and settled for staring at the wall and fiddling with his crossbow. After helping out Rick, he and Glenn made up some plans to go out scouting possible run locations over the next couple days, talking all through dinner before going their separate ways. Glenn went off with Maggie to do a quick perimeter check, and Daryl headed off to sit in the quiet dark of the library. Hadn’t wanted to work on the car again tonight. Last night, spending the whole evening with the muscles in his back stretched tight and his belly burning, just waiting for her to show up, hadn’t done him a lick of good. Hadn’t done the car a lick of good, either. And Daryl wasn’t about to spend another night pretending otherwise.

So he’d gone and sat in the library, sitting at one of the big tables, watching the incremental set of the sun and trying not to think about the evening he’d spent in here with Beth, the night she’d slept on the floor and he’d run his dirty hand over her cheek. Back when he thought he could be around her and not let all the wanting tear him apart. Daryl ran a thumb over the tip of his bolt, slowly, feeling the sting of the point press into his skin. Sighed. Went back to idly turning the bolt between his fingers.

The door creaked open and he looked up to see Beth slipping through the door, still wearing that white shirt and her usual jeans, her little green notebook tucked under her arm. Her eyes fell on him, but she didn’t look surprised to see him sitting there. Didn’t look happy to see him, neither, but it almost felt as nice as all those weeks where she’d been seeking him out every day, smiling when they met up and settled into their evening routine. She bit her lip as she looked at his face, and he shifted in his seat, the bolt having long since gone still between his fingers. Beth walked over to the table and sat down at the table, right across from him. Set her notebook and pencil right on the table, not looking at him anymore, and flipped through her book until she reached a blank page. And then started to write.

It was the first time he’d seen her up close in two days. First time he’d really gotten a real good look at her since she’d gotten in his face, wrapping those little fingers around his shirt and asking him to give her a chance. Daryl blew out a breath he didn’t know he’d been holding.

She looked good, ponytail and braid falling over her shoulder, the ends brushing against the worn table as she wrote. Beth’s face was a little red from the sun, a brightness in her face that made her look like a day out by the water, a day spent laying out on docks, hands running down a bikini-bare body and the taste of salty sweet skin under his mouth. He didn’t bother trying to read her loopy, upside down cursive, but he liked watching her hand move across the page, filling a page quicker than he ever would’ve been able to. As much as he likedwatching movies, and sometimes reading, he didn’t have much to say for himself. He just liked seeing things happen in front of him. That was good enough.

Beth looked up after a while, after she’d filled the front and back of a page. She turned her head, looking out at the sun finally falling low in the sky, the red-orange light falling over her skin and casting shadows in the delicate shell of her ear and on the slender curve of her neck. After a long moment, Beth turned back, then shut the book and set the pencil aside. Her eyes finally really met his, and her eyes were baby blue again. Not hard, and not that glass-clear blue he’d seen that night in the kitchens. Her gaze was soft, and she smiled a little, lips curling up like she didn’t really know what else to do around him. He looked down at the bolt in his hands, feeling a little trapped, but still not wanting to try getting away, not even a little bit. Daryl twisted his fingers around the shaft, the edge of the table digging into his forearms and unease moving down his spine like a cold sweat.

“Nothin’s gotta change, okay?” Her soprano words, that gorgeous drawl, made him look up at her. “I was your friend. I still can be.”

The way she looked at him, when she said those words, eyes still so soft like a little piece of summer-blue sky on a clear day, made it all worse. Her hands were tangled up in her necklace again, the leather cord following the v-neck of her t-shirt. The tumble of blond hair brushed the skin of her raised arm, brushed against the swell of her breast. She licked her lips, looking at him with something like concern. After all the long, searching looks, all that time feeling the weight of her stone-blue eyes on him, it felt wrong to have her looking at him like this, like she was offering him an easy way out. The bolt was pressed so tight beneath Daryl’s fingers, the curvature of it pressing past skin to his very bones, making him ache.

“Beth—” he began to say, his voice barely more than a growl, but she cut him off.

“I want whatever you can give me, okay?” Her voice cracked on the last word, and he felt how much he _had_ hurt her, like a fist to the gut. Maybe all that softness he’d been seeing in her face was more like sadness, after all. As close as she could get, these days. “Maybe I was stupid. But don’t tell me we can’t still have this.”

Daryl growled out a breath, throwing the bolt down on the table and lacing his fingers behind his head in one quick, agitated motion. “Y’ain’t stupid, Beth.” He laughed, but it wasn’t a happy sound. “Y’ain’t fucking stupid.”

Beth had the bigger heart on her necklace pressed between her thumb and forefinger, and she looked at him, all that concern washed away. It was strange, looking at her eyes shining but the blue of her irises darkening with that hardness he was used to.

“Look,” he began, “I’m an asshole, alrigh’? That’s all I got.”

Beth sighed, shoulders dropping a bit as she looked at him. “We both know that ain’t it, Daryl.”

The words were harsh sounding, forced out of his mouth. His fingers tightened behind his head, fingertips digging into the soft spaces between the knuckles of his hands. “That’s all I got, Beth,” he repeated.

While he watched, Beth tucked some hair behind her ear, leaning back in her seat as she looked at him. After a moment, she picked up her notebook and pencil, holding them between her two small hands. She looked down her fingers wrapped around the small green book and the pencil trapped under a thumb, giving a soft sigh and shaking her head a little. And then she looked right back up at him, hard blue eyes telling him just what she thought of that. But Beth didn’t say anything to Daryl. Just stood up, and he let his eyes fall down the gentle lines of her body, the curves and the hollows, the shadows and the light spots illuminated by the last tiny bit of sun. She had the notebook and pencil in one hand now, and he had the strangest hope she’d reach out to him with her free hand, maybe let her fingers trail down his arm again or press against shoulder. Maybe she’d curl her fingers into his shirt again, and he’d feel the bite of her nails through the fabric, feel the heat of her hand warming him up.

But she didn’t do anything like that. Just looked at him with another look he couldn’t figure out, and walked away.

…

Daryl stood looking out at the woods around the prison, one hand curled around his crossbow strap, the other resting near the knife handle at his hip. He’d just finished checking all the gates and outer section of fencing, keeping one eye on the growing pile-up of walkers clinging onto the fences. Something to take care of tomorrow.

He couldn’t see much in the woods, given how dark it was. But he could hear some coyotes, calling out to each other and generally raising a ruckus. He’d hunted them from time to time, back before, but didn’t much care for it. They were always a good challenge, damn smart animals that took a lot of time to learn how to track. But after he’d killed a few, back maybe nine, ten years ago, Daryl had started feeling off about it. Wasn’t any point to killing them, even if they weren’t supposed to be in Georgia in the first place. Some dumb fucks had brought them down here a long time ago, let them run loose, and they were just doing what they needed to survive. Wasn’t like he needed the skins or meat or anything, so he’d given up on it. Still tracked them from time to time, for the fun of it. Or, at least, he used to. Before.

Some shrieking cry sounded in the far reaches in the woods, a keening cry that almost sounded like a baby, if babies had canines and claws, and it raised the hair on his bare arms. With the world going to shit, who knew what was out in those woods?

The walkers still clawed at the fences, but Daryl just stared at the forest for few minutes, trying to figure out what was out there. Who the hell knew? Give the woods a couple decades, then take a look at all this. Everything would be different. Even more different than it already was.

Daryl turned to head back inside, listening to all the noises echoing in the empty yard around him, the ruthlessly hissing walkers, the cries of the coyotes, the breeze sweeping through the trees. He felt tired. Felt old, again. Too goddamn old for the world to be falling apart like this. Too goddamn old for all this running. Too goddamn old for a lot of things. His feet ached in his boots and his arms and back throbbed from all the work he’d been distracting himself with.

He headed inside after he finished checking the interior fencing and the doors. Wasn’t too late yet, a few folks still awake and chatting or relaxing in their cells. Daryl ambled past Rick’s cell, saw Carl sprawled out on the bunk, reading some careworn, colorful comic while Rick was sitting back in his chair, leisurely flipping through an old almanac. Carol was folding up some laundry, putting things to rights around her cell. Saw Michonne carefully wiping down the blade of that sword of hers. Heard Maggie and Glenn talking, voices muffled by their curtain but still easy and calm sounding. And walking past Beth’s, he could hear her humming as she worked on that baby book, carefully writing on the thick paper with those special pens and markers he’d found her all that time ago. Hesitated for only a second, letting his eyes linger on her in the orangey light of her cell and letting the sound of her wash over his mind, and kept on moving.

When he reached the quiet emptiness of his cell, he set down all his gear, shedding most of his spare knives and setting his crossbow down carefully. Unlaced his boots and stretched out on his bed, figuring on taking a quick nap before checking on the cell block. Hadn’t been sleeping well the past few nights, and all the walking and shoveling and hauling shit around the yard with Rick was getting to him. Laid his head back with a sigh, shutting his eyes and willing his shoulders to relax. Let the breath slip in and out of him, slow and steady, and fell asleep.

Daryl awoke with a start sometime later, his cell pitch black and the arm under his body burning with pins and needles. He groaned as he rolled out of bed, stumbling to his feet and nearly tripping over his own goddamn boots. Rubbing his fist over his sleep swollen eyes, he jammed his boots on, then stretched his back as he bent to tie them up. Checked that his big knife was still on his belt, deciding to leave his bow behind for the night. Shaking his head, he pushed his raggedy sheet out of the way and walked out of his cell.

Taking off towards the bathrooms, he walked quietly through the cellblock, yawning as he went. Must’ve been early in the morning, maybe around three or so. Still dark out, temperature still low. No one moving around, just the usual sounds of sleep and rustles of bedclothes.

The bathroom was damp, echoing with the sounds of leaking faucets, but still somehow relaxing. Daryl washed his face off with a bit of cool water, feeling restless and grimy and hoping to work the sleep out of his eyes. He could just barely make out his reflection in the mirror, shadows covering much of his face. Just saw the shine of his eyes and water dripping from the ends of his too-long hair and onto his cheeks. Almost wished for a little bit of light in here, just so he could take a good look at himself, try to figure out what sort of man he was looking like these days. Wasn’t actually sure when he’d last looked at himself. Was never much for it before all this, and even less so, now.

What Glenn had said to him, what Rick had said, out there by the corn and the pigs and all that, it was sticking with him. Wasn’t thinking too much on it, anyway, but it was like a bad burn. Always hurt, in some fucked up corner of your mind, even when you weren’t thinking on how it felt to have your skin cracked, blistering, and oozing. Wasn’t a mystery that he’d been acting like a dick for the past two days. Didn’t feel too surprised, either, that Rick and Glenn had picked up on the why of it. But how was he supposed to tell men like that why he’d done what he’d done? Couldn’t even put it into words for Beth herself. Couldn’t figure how to even think about it. End of the day, this wasn’t really something for talking about. Wasn’t something you could just plan a run for, get what you need and haul ass back with the solution. Wished it was, though. Make it a whole hell of a lot easier on him.

When Beth had sat down across from him in that empty library, he hadn’t known what to do. Rick’s words, Rick’s words about Lori, had been burning a hole under the tarp in his mind, but he just couldn’t let them out into the open. And then she’d offered friendship, just letting all that she’d said, all that she’d did, her hand wrapped up in his shirt and her eyes burning into his, just letting all that go. And what Daryl had realized that it felt an awful lot like the coward’s way out. But saying yes to Beth Greene was something for a good man, something for someone far better and younger than him. Something for someone that knew a damn thing about what she was asking for. Because Daryl knew himself pretty well. Knew he wasn’t any better than fucking a girl once or twice and never saying a goddamn word. Daryl was about keeping his shirt and boots on while he was inside a woman. About falling asleep alone and never disappointing himself or anybody else with trying anything more. So that left him sitting in the library with Beth Greene staring him down, trapped between being a coward and trying at something he could never be.

But, even as he told her what an asshole he was, Rick’s words still cracked and oozed and blistered in the back of his mind. _I told Lori no. And I never really had a chance to take it back._

World like this, the threat of losing someone was a reason to keep them at arms’ length, all while trying to pull them as close to you as possible. Glenn and Maggie. Every second of their lives was for each other, about getting so close they were living under the other’s skin, a tattoo. Rick and Lori. Never got a chance to take it back, and Rick had lost his mind over it. Where did _that_ leave Daryl? Mostly just felt like him being a dick, being alone in the evenings and burning up from wanting to touch Beth Greene. Felt like looking at her pretty face and wanting all sorts of things that were never meant to be his, like that gentle look on her face when she looked down at the baby, or the feel of her fingers running down his arm. Soft skin and all that tangled up golden hair brushing up against him as she leaned into him. Wanting to hear her voice, talking about everything going on inside as he worked on the cars, all that humming and soft-singing she did under her breath without even realizing it.

Wanting all that from her wasn’t enough of a reason, though. Just because he wanted something didn’t mean he had to have it. Wanted plenty of shit he never got. Wanting her wasn’t enough of a reason to have her. Wanting her didn’t mean he could do right by her.

So Daryl settled for coward. But knowing he was being a coward didn’t sit right with him. It settled heavy on his back, making him even more tired, and it fueled the rancid burning in his belly.

Leaving the bathroom, he double checked all the doors and gates, making sure everything was all locked up. And then he headed back up to the cellblock, moving smoothly past all the cells and listening for the sounds of everyone breathing, relaxing only when he heard everyone just where they were supposed to be. Daryl slowed down some when he got close to Beth’s cell, not wanting the sound of his boots to wake anyone, least of all her. Didn’t need to make it any worse by letting her know he was hanging out around her cell like some kind of fucking snake. Didn’t matter if he only did to make sure everything was as it should be, it was still fucking wrong to spend a few minutes pressed up against the wall and thinking on her pretty face and quiet voice.

The blanket she used as a door was pushed open a few inches, and his sharp eyes automatically fell on that space before he could tell himself to look away. It was a lifelong habit, only reinforced more by the past few years, to take a good look at what was going on around him. And before he knew it, Daryl’s eyes were catching on Beth’s blue ones, her face caught in shadows and the little bit of light coming in through the door. She was leaning over the baby’s crib, hands curled around the scarred wooden railing, surprise written across her face. Her blue eyes wide open, lips parted. He was frozen the instant her eyes hit his, like all his bones were stuck together. After a tense moment, though, Beth dropped her hands from the crib and gave him a tiny smile, one side of her mouth lifting up. And then she moved towards him, a long, thin line of slim body, just wearing a tight tank-top and loose-fitting sweatpants that hung from her hips, showing off a few inches of curved bone and flat belly, the indent of her navel. His eyes traced the smooth line from ribs to thin waist to the smooth roundness of her hips. Without making any noise, she pushed the curtain out of her way and stood in her doorway, looking up at him.

Daryl’s eyes locked on the curve of her shoulders, the white skin and the handful of freckles. And then her slender hand found his, cool fingers circling his wrist before Beth slid her palm down against his. His eyes moved up the line of her neck, marking where a few loose waves were brushing against where her pulse beat, before traveling over the soft curve of her jaw, over her pretty mouth and his eyes slanted up her high cheekbones before meeting her steady gaze. Daryl could feel Beth’s eyes searching his, just like he was trying to do with her, but it was just too goddamn dark for it. Could still feel her eyes on him all the same, though. And just like that, his shoulders fell, all the tension draining out of him.

Beth didn’t give him any warning, just tugged his hand, drawing him just past her curtain, the soft fabric brushing against his bare arms. And once he was in there, she pressed her face into his chest, her forehead right near the collar of his shirt and her hand clutching at the shoulder of his shirt, her tiny fist pressed against his collarbone. Felt her sigh, her breath a warmth reaching through the worn fabric of his shirt, and he fought to keep still. Daryl just let one hand slide low across her back, pressing his fingers and palm to the bare skin of her back, those few precious inches he’d spent far too long thinking about. His thumb swept under the hem of her tank top, pushing it up higher, and he stroked the soft skin he found, the motion of his thumb and the heat of her skin soothing him somehow, traveling up his arm to the rest of his body.

“I couldn’t sleep,” she whispered into his chest, so quiet he almost thought he’d made up the sound of her voice.

Daryl didn’t reply, just lowered his head and let his face brush against her head. He felt the soft brush of her hair against his jaw, on his cheek. Breathed her in, the sweet and the raw female scent, and it left him aching, left him wanting. Beth’s breath hitched, fingers curling tighter into his shoulder, other hand curling tighter around his hand. Her hips shifted against him as she blew out a shaky breath, and he knew she felt him, hard and pressed against her soft belly. Daryl found his hand pressing harder against her lower back, searching for all the softness he could, maybe pulling her into him a little further. And it sure felt an awful lot like she was pressing into his touch, pressing up against him, arching herself just a tiny bit.

Daryl wasn’t a good man. But he wasn’t a coward.

“Me neither,” he whispered, his voice gravelly maybe out of want, maybe just because it was darker than sin in there. Beth made a soft noise in her throat as she shifted against him, her chest pressed against him, and he felt the soft rub through his shirt, and he closed his eyes.

They stayed like that for some time, Daryl just breathing in the scent of her, feeling her and wanting her. The skin of Beth’s back was warm against his palm, and he could feel gooseflesh under the steady sweep of his thumb. After a while, the fist at his collarbone started getting looser, and she made a sleepy noise, something that was quieter than an unrepentant moan, but he felt the sound like a jolt, low in his body, all the same.

“Beth,” he murmured, moving his hand to her hip, slowly disentangling himself from her. She blinked slowly, her hand falling from his shoulder and the other giving his big hand a weak squeeze before letting go.

Daryl kept his hand on her hip for a moment, looking down at her and trying to search out her eyes. Just saw a soft glint of light, a hint of light blue looking back up at him. Couldn’t really be sure, but he had the feeling they were that soft, glass blue.

“I can’t say yes,” he whispered, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hip, craving the outline of her very bones. “But I ain’t sayin’ no to you.”

Beth didn’t say anything, just tilted her head up a bit more and lifted her hand, slowly, towards his face. She brushed her fingertips, soft and cool, against his cheekbone, once, twice, and then dropped her hand. Her body felt pliant to him, all soft acquiescence in the curve of her spine and the loose set of her shoulders, no tension threading her tiny form. Felt like enough of an acceptance to him, just like her fingertips had been something like forgiveness.

After a long moment, Daryl let go of her hip, finally stepping away from her altogether. He nodded at her, and with the dim light of the moon filtering in, he could just make out her answering nod. And then he stepped out of her cell, bound for the cold solitude of his own, but maybe feeling a little less alone, after all.


	8. Chapter Eight

There were nearly forty or so walkers, pressed up against the fence. The whole herd was growling and snapping like mad, teeth opening and closing on empty air, hands trying to reach through the fence, searching for anything warm and alive. The early morning sun beat down, too hot already and making the stench of all those rotting bodies even worse. There'd been a handful of walkers out by the fences when he went in for bed last night. But nothing even close to this. This was more than they had ever gotten overnight before. And they were putting too much pressure on the fence. Without even getting too close, he could see it starting to give way under all that weight.

Was always just a matter of goddamn time before something started falling apart.

Daryl had gotten out of bed at the ass crack of dawn, having not slept a damn minute after coming back to his own cell from Beth’s. Just meant to just do a quick loop of the yard while Pauline cooked up some oatmeal. But then he’d seen the huge herd of walkers jammed up against the fence, and went back inside to gather up some help. None of the volunteers got any breakfast, they’d just gathered up some weapons and headed for the fences, stone faced, hungry, and all of them with a glint of hate in their eyes as they rushed out to the pile up, the walkers concentrated on one small bit of fencing, instead of spreading out like they usually did.

Hadn’t been that many out here when he’d gone in the night before, he kept thinking. The herd had way more than doubled, raising a horrible ruckus and drawing in even more walkers from the forest. Maggie and Sasha were working on drawing some walkers away from the crowd before killing them, while he and Rick worked with Glenn and Tyrese on taking out as many from the center as they could. A herd of that size pressing against the chain link fence made it sag dangerously, steel screeching as it moved under the press of decaying, ravenous bodies. They all worked without pause, jamming sharpened bits of metal or wood through the walkers’ brains. Daryl had his teeth gritted together and his hands wrapped tight around the crowbar he was using, feeling a numbness underneath both the burning in his arms and the absent gnawing feeling in his belly. He could hear the dry hissing and dissonant groans of the walkers mixed in with the grunts and labored breathing of the men working alongside him, and all of it was echoing louder in his head when he started to realize the herd didn’t seem to be getting much smaller, the more he was seeing that the fence wasn’t sagging any less.

Daryl heard Maggie’s screams and Rick’s shouting same time he saw the fence moving downward, finally beginning a slow collapse, bent nearly in half under all those walkers. And then he heard Sasha, voice hoarse with disbelief as she shouted to the group. “Are you guys seeing this? Someone’s been feeding them!” The walkers grew more frantic at all the noise, the fence bending inwards just a little bit more.

“Back away from the fence!” Daryl shouted, and they all took big steps backwards, watching the fence sag towards them a little more. Daryl took a step towards Sasha. Took one look at the half-eaten mice scattered along the fence line, all of them oozing red-black sludge onto the weeds, and Daryl felt that old urge, the urge to crack open skulls in an effort to get the world sorted again. Felt it burn through him in a way he hadn’t in a long, long time. Who could be so fucking stupid? Feeling more than a little unhinged, he turned back to Rick, who looked ashen. The sheriff scrubbed a hand over his face as he looked around wildly, from the sinking fence to the tall walls of the prison, out to the conspicuously empty yard and over by the green of the gardens and back again.

“This fence is gonna fall if we don’t _do_ something,” Sasha said, vehemence making her voice low and loud all at once. Daryl felt the same burning she did, the same rage. Watched the fence sink a little more under the writhing mass of dead skin and bone and brain. Beth flickered across his mind for a second, making the heat flaring its way over him go burning cold in an instant. Wasn’t going to let this fence fall, wasn’t going to let the walkers any closer than they already were. They had to do something, and picking them off one by one wasn’t going to cut it this time. He looked over to Rick, mind turning like a fan belt, but nothing was coming to him aside from mowing the walkers down with the rifles, which was too dangerous with them still pressed up against the fence. Too loud, as well.

“I know what to do,” Rick replied to Daryl’s unanswered question. “Get the truck,” he said, their eyes locked as Daryl nodded, already moving.

The two men ran for the cars, their boots not making a single noise to be heard over the walkers at their fences. The butt of his crossbow slammed into his back a couple times, and he felt it without really noticing it, just a dull throb that he’d fully register hours or even days later. Rick pointed to the jeep, the one with the trailer already hitched up. “The pigpen,” Rick shouted, slapping the dented hood of the vehicle as he ran passed. Daryl vaulted into driver’s seat, digging for the keys briefly before slamming them into the ignition and starting her up with a quick wrench of his wrist.

Daryl drove over the yard as quickly as he could without tipping that damn trailer, though it fishtailed a little as he went. Came to a hard stop in front of the pen, watching Rick heft one of the piglets. Figured out, for certain, just what the man was up to. Saw in written in the grim set of his mouth, in the blank look in his eyes. He jumped out of the driver’s seat and helped Rick gather up the final two piglets, stowing them in the big crate they kept on the back of the trailer, the crate they used for runs, for loose odds and ends. Getting a new use today, it seemed. Daryl almost directed Rick to take the wheel, but Rick was had already climbed onto the back of the trailer, sitting next to the big crate with a grim look on his face, so Daryl got back behind the wheel and took off for the gate.

Maggie was hauling the last gate open just in time, and Daryl drove them out beyond the prison fencing, kicking up a spray of loose stone and sand as they sped past. He circled around the prison, weaving his way through the tall grass and revving the engine as he went, hoping to draw the attention of as many walkers as he could. They started to trail after him, slowly dragging themselves away from the fence, drawn in by the newer, louder sounds. Rick called out for him to stop, and he shifted gears and stepped on the brake, turning his head to keep an eye on Rick and the approaching walkers.

Rick grabbed one of the piglets, lifting it out of the box. Daryl saw the man hesitate, shifting the knife in his hand as he looked down at the pink animal squirming around in his grip, raising holy hell and squealing like a bastard. The walkers were interested, alright. Daryl shifted his sweaty, greasy hand on the wheel, his right hand restlessly itching to shift the jeep into gear. “Com’on, man. Let’s go!”

Rick finally took the knife to the pig, slashing a long, deep cut into its flank. Then dumped the pig on the ground as Daryl drove further away from the prison, drawing more walkers further away from the fence as others collapsed around the felled pig.

“Alright,” Rick yelled, banging on the trailer, and Daryl stopped. Rick repeated the process on the second piglet, not hesitating as much this time. And then they moved on.

When he came to a stop the third time, Daryl turned around fully, surveying the walkers straggling from the fence towards the idling jeep. Craning his head, he could make out Sasha, Tyrese and Glenn working on reinforcing the fence with big wooden stakes, hauled over from fuck knows where. His eyes fell on Rick, itching to get moving again, get working on taking care of all the walkers clawing at the ground, fighting for a mouthful of pig guts. Rick had the smallest piglet now, wriggling and squealing like crazy. The man looked paler than he had before, knife hand shakier as it hovered over the pig’s spotted flank. And, the quiet thought cutting through the cold rage in his mind, Daryl realized that this wasn’t easy for Rick, not like it would’ve been for Daryl. Wasn’t easy, cutting up the piglets and leaving them to get ripped to shreds. That had been Rick’s work, what had been keeping Rick sane in all this. And now nearly all of that was gone, fed to the never-ending stream of fucking walkers. Might’ve been easier for Daryl to be the one cutting those pigs open, but Rick had known, and now Daryl was seeing, Rick had to be the one to do it.

Daryl didn’t tell Rick to get a move on this time. Just watched in silence, keeping an eye on the doggedly approaching walkers. Knew the man would take care of it when he was ready, and not a minute before. Not a minute too late, neither. And Rick did take care if it, drawing the serrated edge of his blade across the pig’s haunch, a spray of blood hitting his face when he did. Rick’s face twisted up as he dropped the pig to the ground, wiping at the blood on his face with the backs of his hands. Daryl shifted the jeep into gear roughly, momentarily satisfied by the grinding gears and rattling engine. Twisted the wheel and headed back to the prison gates, too fast for any of the walkers trying to catch up.

All of them worked for what felt like hours, Glenn, Rick and Tyrese working on fixing up and reinforcing the fencing while Daryl, Maggie and Sasha used the long range rifles to put down walkers. Wanted to put down as many of them as they could before they all wandered back over to the fences. There was too many of them out there for them to just go out and fight face to face, so Daryl decided the all the noise the rifles would make was worth the risk, so long as they were careful with their shots.

The sun was pretty damn high in the sky by the time the fence was fixed up and enough walkers had been mowed down to risk heading out there and taking care of the corpses. They worked in tandem to take down as many stragglers as they could, any last snapping walkers that lacked a bullet or knife to the brain, keeping an eye on any loners dragging themselves out of the woods. They used the flatbed to drag the bodies away from the prison, taking them to the usual spot. They made several smaller piles, then doused them with as much gasoline as they could risk sparing, and lit them up.

Rick and Daryl hung back when everyone went back inside to finally get some food, lingering by the newly repaired fence. Rick tightened up some wires and rechecked the wooden braces they’d put up, while Daryl chucked the last little bits of half-eaten mice over the fence, throwing them as far away as he could manage. They worked in silence before finally heading over to the hoses to wash up a bit.

The water was cold, and the men didn’t talk too much as they scrubbed the dried blood from their hands and arms. “Who you reckon’s been feeding ‘em?” Daryl finally asked, scrubbing at his forearm.

Rick sighed. “Not a goddamn clue.” He met Daryl’s eyes, sighing as he tried to get some of the blood off of his neck. “They were on our side of the fence. It’s got to be one of our own. Just can’t see who’d be doing this.”

Daryl nodded his agreement. “Too many goddamn Woodbury people to keep track of.”

“We’re just lucky there weren’t any kids out there,” Rick said. “Lucky you _were_ out there.” He held Daryl’s gaze for a moment longer. “Thanks, man.”

“Shoulda seen it last night.”

Rick shook his head. “Who knows when they were out there with those mice...” Put his hands on his hips as he trailed off, and looked out over at the now abandoned pigpen. Sighed, looking older and more tired than he usually did. Daryl felt the steady drip of cold water running down the side of his face, feeling dirty and dog tired. Another enemy in the dark. Another asshole out there putting everyone in danger. Another day spent fighting and nothing to show for it but losing something else.

Daryl looked out over at the yard. Saw the garden in the distance, the pigpen. The fence, always in sight no matter where he turned his head. Saw some folks moving around the courtyard, sticking close to the prison as they did work around the yard. And he had the feeling that was just what Rick saw too. Felt bad about those goddamn pigs. Felt better for knowing that the herd had been taken care of, that everybody inside still had their hides. And Daryl didn’t begrudge Rick his moment of self-pity over the damn pigs. Wasn’t easy, killing something you’d raised. Had to be done, and Rick had done it, even if he didn’t want to.

“Goin’ in for lunch?” Daryl asked.

“Nah,” Rick answered, cutting his eyes to Daryl real quick before looking back out at his garden and pigpen. “Got some things to take care of.”

Daryl clapped his hand to Rick’s shoulder. “Alright, man.”

…

After sneaking into the showers and jamming the doors shut, Daryl took a quick shower, scrubbing himself clean and trying to work the grit from his tired eyes. Wasn’t usual for him to take a shower in the middle of the day like this, even after working all morning like he had been, but after coming inside and leaving Rick out in the yard, he’d just wanted to get cleaner than just a rinse with a hose, even before getting some food.

Felt fuckin’ tired. More than usual. Hadn’t slept for a damn second after coming back from Beth’s cell. Just laid there, still smelling her, still feeling her. He’d gotten out of bed that morning, mind blurry with thoughts of her soft skin under his hands and trying to figure out what he was supposed to say to her next time he saw her. And Daryl hadn’t figured out a damn thing, because then he’d seen the herd of walkers up against the fence, wiping his mind. Couldn’t think about her then, because that moment was about keeping her and everybody else in these walls safe. But now, standing under the lukewarm spray of water, she was all he could think about. Thought about how the bared skin of her back had felt under his big hand, the play of muscles under soft skin as she arched into him, pressing herself into him. Thought about inhaling her scent as her hair brushed against his neck, thought about those tiny sounds she’d made as her chest rubbed against his. The feel of her body against him, even with the layers of clothing that separated them.

Daryl hadn’t forgotten what he’d said to Beth. Hadn’t forgotten how he’d held onto her hip so hard he must have left bruises, the proof that his hand had been there, on the soft white of her body. And there was some part of him that couldn’t feel bad about it. Some part of him that just felt satisfied for leaving that mark there, a reminder of his skin on hers. Just like he couldn’t feel regret for what he’d said to her. Wasn’t any point in trying to tell a girl like Beth Greene no. Only thing a man like him could do for her was to not make any promises he couldn’t keep. Daryl could only try to keep her safe. From him, from walkers, from whatever was outside those goddamn walls. Just give her what he could and hope like hell it wasn’t a damn mistake.

The water was starting to run a little cold, and he’d almost thought about turning the water off and getting dressed, but he was still burning up, feeling almost the same heat that he had last night. Felt the same need for her that had kept him up all night, no matter what he did about it. He was just as hard now as he had been last night, memory and imagination tangled up in his mind and making it hard to think or breathe.

Making a strangled noise halfway between a groan and a sigh, he gave in, wrapping a hand around himself. With his eyes closed, Daryl could almost feel her again, pressed up against him. He could imagine her trembling as he pressed his mouth to where her pulse beat in her neck, her nails scratching at his shoulders as she clung to him. He could almost hear her breathing hard and heavy, face pressed to his chest as he slid his hand over the gentle curve of her belly. Daryl could see his hand sliding over her hip, his fingers running over the bruises he’d left on her, hear her sharp intake of breath, a tiny gasp of pleasure. Thought about what it’d be like to move his hand down into the front of her sweatpants, his fingers gently running over the insides of her trembling thighs before pressing into her and finding her wet. Didn’t take more than the thought of her wet for him, and he was coming hard, jaw tight to keep the groan from falling from his mouth.

Felt like ages before he shook his head clear, feeling a little less on edge, small fissures of pleasure still running down the length of his back. Daryl cracked his neck as he used up the last of the warm water, rinsing from head to toe one final time before shutting the water off.

He dressed quickly, suddenly feeling aware of how long he’d been locked in there. Didn’t need anyone saying anything about the shower door being jammed shut for too long. So he gathered up his shit and got the hell out of there, trying not too think too much on why he was feeling a little better leaving the shower room than he had going in.

Daryl had ditched his stuff in his cell and was heading on down for lunch when he heard the soft sound of Beth signing coming from further on down the cell block. Both times he passed by, her cell had been empty. She’d probably been out helping with the chores. But now, judging by the low, soothing sound of her voice, she was back in her cell, putting Lil’ Asskicker down for a nap. And, so instead of going on down to scrounge for some lunch, he found himself walking down the cell block, drawn in by her signing.

Beth was standing near the baby’s crib, voice dropping off as she gently swayed Judy. She was signing another one of those songs he didn’t recognize, words sliding in and out of focus as she began to hum a bit. The baby was curled in against Beth’s chest, fingers still wrapped around the longest yellow-blonde lock hanging from Beth’s ponytail. Daryl watched the gentle motion of her hips as rocked the baby, the shift of her body as she moved back and forth. His eyes caught on her clean hand, rubbing small circles on Judith’s back, her fingertips just a light pressure on the pale pink cotton of the baby’s onesie. Got caught up looking her over, from her rounded shoulders to the crook of her elbow, from the twist of her hips to the bend of her knee.

Beth stopped singing, voice trailing off unexpectedly, and Daryl jerked his head up from studying the curve of her thigh. His neck heated up when he met her eyes, Beth staring at him just like he’d been doing to her. For the second time in less than a day, she’d caught him watching her, standing outside her cell like some kind of slack-jawed fool. He itched to cross his arms over his chest, but he didn’t. Beth’s blue eyes were cloudy and she was biting her lip, studying him with something like a frown on her face, her lips pursed a bit, shining a little bit where her tongue and teeth had worried the pale pink skin. Daryl instantly felt that old tightening in his belly, making him curl his hands into fists, nails digging into hard skin. Before he could figure out whatever was in her eyes, she was bending over, gently laying a sleeping Judy down. And when she looked up, her lower lip was reddening where she’d bit into it, but her eyes had gentled some, maybe looking at him with something a little more like normal. The last few days had fucked him up so bad, Daryl didn’t know what was usual between them anymore. He was losing track of how a girl like her should be looking at a man like him.

Beth walked over to him, coming out of her cell to stand next to him. She twisted all those bracelets she had around her wrist, the ones covering up the scar no one ever talked about. The gnawing and tightening in his belly got worse, heat climbing up his back like the sharpened claws of some angry animal.

“Saw the fence almost went down,” she said. “Carol an’ I were watching through the windows. Tried to keep the kids from looking, but we were staring the whole time.”

Daryl watched as she let go of the tangle of bracelets on her wrist, the leather cuff and the ribbons and braided string she always wore there. Her fist closed around empty space, clenching up for a second, and then her fingers were tugging at the hem of his flannel button-up, just above his left jeans pocket. Held his breath as she rubbed the material between her thumb and forefinger before curling her fingers into his shirt, her knuckles just barely brushing against the skin above his belt, where they’d disappeared under his shirt. Beth had her head bent, and it seemed like both of them were looking down at her tiny hand, holding onto the hem of his dirty brown shirt for dear life. Daryl’s own hands felt heavy, and he thought about what he’d done that night out by the car, before he asked her what they were doing. Thought about how good it had felt to let his hands slide down her arms. Almost did it again.

But Beth finally looked up at him, and he could breathe again when her eyes hit his. They were that beautiful clear blue glass shade again, early afternoon light lighting her up and making her eyes seem lighter than usual. “I got some time before she wakes up. I can get you some lunch,” she offered. “We can stay up here, if you want.”

Daryl’s lips twitched a bit at that. Knew why she was offering. She knew better than anyone how much he hated the way people looked to him or Rick for answers the second something fell apart. Never gave a man a damn minute to think anything through before hounding him.

“Yeah,” he said. “Sounds good.” Beth smiled at that, lips curving. Her knuckles brushed against the skin of his waist one more time as she let go of his shirt. His skin felt warm still, after that, the way he still felt the sun in his skin long after going inside.

As she walked away, he leaned back against the wall outside her cell, crossing his arms and huffing a breath out through his nose. Willed his skin to stop burning where she’d rubbed against him, tried to stop thinking about the way her lip had looked after she’d bit it. He made himself take slow, deep breaths as he waited for her. Tried to empty his mind as best he could, tried to cover up the thoughts of her that were driving him crazy. Might not be able to blank them all out, but Daryl reckoned he might try keeping them from taking over his mind.

Only a handful of minutes later, Beth was coming back up the stairs with a bowl of food and a bottle of water. She was walking that way she did whenever she was taking care of something for somebody, or when she had the baby in her arms. Careful and quick moving all at once, steady and still somehow lithe, a supple line from neck down her spine that always kept her graceful.

“Where do you wanna sit?” she asked. “Just don’t want to get too far away, ‘case she wakes up.”

Looked down at the concrete floor he was standing on, that familiar bit of worn concrete outside her cell. “Here’s fine,” Daryl said, taking the bowl of rice and meat from her and then sitting his ass down, back to the wall. Looked up at her, standing over him with the water bottle in her hands. “You sittin’?” he asked, one brow raised.

She rolled her eyes at him before sitting down next to him, scooting close enough that his arm touched hers every time he brought his fork to his mouth. He felt better after wolfing down his late lunch, suddenly realizing just how good it felt to get some food in him after working from before breakfast until after lunch. No matter how used to all this shit he was, desensitized or numb or whatever anybody wanted to call it, there was always some part of him that, for a few minutes of recognition at least, felt off-balance.

One time when he was a kid, Daryl had gone out into the woods alone, trying to catch frogs in the crick a couple of miles out from home. He’d been walking barefoot across the slimy, algae green rocks, when a big bull frog had caught his attention. Made a lunging move for it, hands outstretched. But everything slowed down, nearly to a halt, when his foot slid off the side of the rock, his whole body tipping, weightless, belly up in his throat and lungs between his ears. Everything was still, sound gone and air not rushing past him, just holding him upright for one long second as his eyes took in everything around him. Saw the smooth, hard river rocks and cold water beneath his falling body. Saw the frog leaping away from his empty hands. Saw his own skinny arms, sunburnt, freckled, bruised and cut up. And just as soon as he saw all that, really felt all that in every part of his body, he was hitting the shallow water and the rocks underneath. His ankle was twisted to shit, bruises and cuts up and down his body and clothes soaked with stinky, stagnant crick water. It took him so long to get home that Merle had even bothered to come out looking for him, cigarette between his lips and dime bag in his back pocket. After thwacking him over the head and bitching him out, his brother had given him a piggyback ride back to the house. Got him a popsicle and a hunk of frozen pork belly to put on his ankle before heading out to go drinking with the other older kids, leaving Daryl alone on the threadbare couch with the funny pages.

Daryl always remembered that feeling of falling, the way it shook him up from head to toe, pulling everything out of focus before pushing it all, crystal clear, back into his face. Remembered it because he always felt it, in all those moments when shit had gone to hell and back. Remembered it because he’d learned the hard way to catch himself before hitting the water and the rocks below.

Rubbing at his forehead with the side of his hand, he set his empty bowl down. Beth held up the water bottle and he took it from her, drinking down half of it in one go before capping it off and setting that down too.

They both sat there, legs stretched out in front of them and backs pressed to the wall, Beth humming and Daryl just breathing steady, feeling more put together than he had in days. Felt good to be just sitting there, listening to Beth hum as she leaned towards him, her arm pressing against him, worn cotton and velvet-fine skin cool against his hot skin. She was humming a melody that made him think of her standing on stage in some backwoods bar, hair down around her shoulders, her voice silvery and smoky all at once. Not that a girl like her would’ve ever been caught in any of the bars he and Merle had gone to. But it was nice to think about. Nice to imagine drinking a cold beer and having a smoke while she sang to a building full of people. Nice to imagine getting to hear her sing like that, and then have her come next to him in a booth, just like she was now, bare arms pressed together and legs brushing against each other under the table. Nice to imagine her hand on his thigh and his mouth to her ear as everybody else looked on, jealous as a snake.

Beth had her head ducked down, and whatever song she was humming had started to meander. “You tired?” he asked, watching her fingers where she was tapping out a slow-moving rhythm on her jean clad thighs.

“Hmm?” Beth said, lifting up her head to look at him. Her brows were pulled together and she was biting her lip again. “Oh,” she said on an inhalation. “Mind’s just wandering,” she supplied, giving him a half smile. She turned back out to the big windows, squinting and breathing out a quiet sigh as she peered at the sun. Daryl watched as she stretched her hands, fingers flexing before they settled back down on her thighs.

His own hands were just resting in his lap, and he thought about how easy it might be, to just reach over and pick up one of her small hands in his own huge one. Beth could slide her hand into his without even thinking about it. Without him resisting for one goddamn second. She’d done it the night before when she’d pulled him into her cell. And here he was, older than her by nearly twenty years and he couldn’t figure out how she went about it. Daryl's whole body felt like it was pulled tight, all muscles strapped to bone and getting tighter. And his mind just wouldn’t let go of the thought of being able to put his hand around hers.

Beth’s hair brushed against his arm, her shoulders slumped a little more, and then she was leaning against him, resting against him more fully. “I lied,” she murmured. “I’m so awfully tired.”

Daryl reached out, careful not to jostle her too much. Found her tiny wrist with his hand, then slid his hand down further. Let his whole hand cover up those tiny fingers of hers and the underside of his forearm rest against hers. Not squeezing or lacing their fingers together. Just his hand wrapped around hers, and Daryl closed his eyes, feeling nothing but all the places their bodies were touching. Her hair against his arm, and the soft curve of her cheek. Her hip lined up with his and their forearms pressed together on her thigh. And then, her hand resting in his, all fine-boned and soft compared to the heavy weight and callused surface of his own. He could feel Beth’s thumb, moving up and down against his smallest finger, feather-light repetition that made his whole mind slow down, made every bit of blood moving just under the skin throb just that much more.

“Yeah,” Daryl gruffly mumbled back. “Me, too.”

They stayed like that for some time, alone in the quiet, empty cellblock, just the muffled sounds of whatever was going on below. Daryl just kept his eyes closed and mind blank, feeling her next to him and her hand under his. Just breathing in and out, smelling her sweet scent and enjoying her warmth. Stayed like that until Judith woke up with a grumbling cry and Beth gently disentangled herself from him. She gave his hand a quick squeeze before getting on her feet, and he stayed on the ground for another moment, watching her move. Tried to memorize the tighten and release of her muscles, the way they moved under her skin as she stretched her back and arms, that arching, inward curve under the back of her shirt, before getting to his own feet.

Daryl moved to the entrance of her cell, leaning against the cement and watched as Beth scooped up Judith, who was gnawing on her fist and kicking her legs a bit. “After dinner?” he asked.

Beth gave him one of those soft smiles, the kind that made her eyes gentle. “Yeah.” So he nodded, giving her one last look, and then he was off.

Always something else to get done.

…

Daryl leaned back against the couch, map book of Georgia open in front of him, but he wasn’t looking at it, not thinking about the whispers and questions that had been directed at him and Rick all through dinner. Instead, he was watching Beth, who was slowly walking in front of the stacks, and had been for going on ten minutes now. She kept pulling books down off the shelf, reading the backs and flipping through them, sometimes with her nose wrinkled up, other times frowning or rubbing at the back of her neck.   She’d lean on one leg, scuffing the opposite foot against the linoleum floor, flipping through the book for a minute or two before putting it back on the shelf. And then she’d begin all over again.

As he watched, a book on the top shelf caught her attention. Beth stood on her tiptoes, balancing one hand on a shelf and reaching up. Her back, that long line of her spine, the inward dip of her waist and the wider curve of her hips, all on display for him. Saw the just right curve of her ass, the perfect roundness for a girl as slender as her. Daryl thought about getting up, standing behind her and pressing his hips into hers, pinning her between his body and the shelf. Thought about whatever sound she might make. Thought about burying his face in her hair before finding the back of her ear and putting his mouth there. And he was torn, because he was thinking of how impossible it would be, to just walk over and help her take down that book like he didn’t want to fuck her right where she stood. But Daryl got to his feet anyways, knowing that there was a big difference between wanting a girl like that and actually being able to go through with it. Any other girl, it would’ve been easy. Just act on it.

But a girl like her? Girl he knew he didn’t deserve to be around? Wanting didn’t mean the same thing to him. Not these days.

And then she was reaching further, her shirt pulling up. His mouth went dry as he took in the white curve of her hip and the dark smudge of a shadowy purple bruise just where his thumb had been the night before. Not big, not dark. Just a tiny mark that could’ve been from anything. And everything around him slowed, stilled, just like it had when he was a kid, falling from a rock. Saw his own big hands, dark and scarred up. And he saw the curve of her tiny white hip, remembered just how it had fit right in his palm. Saw her hair, sweeping across her back, and the tilt of her head from where she was looking up at the top of the shelf. Felt his body react, his blood running hot and a tightness in his back and shoulders that had nothing to do with any of the work he’d done today. And all the shit about wanting, the shit he thought he knew, when straight out of his mind.

It was only a few steps and he was behind Beth, his left arm hooked hard around her belly, dragging her against him, her soft ass right pressed up against his erection. Daryl had his other hand gripping the shelf above her head, knuckles white and the metal cold on his skin. He heard her gasp and the hitch in her breathing that followed it. Felt the jolt in her body before she settled against him, one hand on her necklace, the other arm on top of the arm digging into her belly, her small, smooth hand stretched out over the back of his big one. He heard the harshness of his own breath, all of it echoing loudly in his ears or the quiet of the room, he couldn’t tell. Just knew his breath was coming in pants against the back of her head, her ponytail brushing his jaw. Daryl could smell her, and that raw scent was stronger than ever, raising straight off her skin and hitting him straight in the chest. He stood still for a long minute, his fingers wrapping around her waist and his forearm locked just above the waist of her jeans. He could see over her shoulder, his eyes sliding down her sternum, watching her breasts rise and fall under her shirt as she took unsteady, shallow breaths. Saw the flush spreading across Beth’s soft, white skin.

Involuntarily, his fingers tightened on the yielding flesh of her waist, and she made a quiet noise, halfway between a moan and a cry, arching her hips back into him just a little more. She felt so good, pressed against him like she was, shivering, and he growled, squeezing his eyes shut. His hand tightened on the bookshelf, the sharp metal lip digging into his thumb, and he fought the urge to let his hands do whatever they wanted. Letting out one long, shaky breath, he squeezed her hip one last time and let her go, still hanging onto the bookshelf, eyes still closed.

Beth brushed against him as she twisted around. He flinched when her hands pressed against his chest, her fingers gripping his shirt. “Daryl,” she whispered. “Daryl.”

He opened up his eyes, and she was looking up at him, studying him with blue eyes darker than he’d ever seen before. “Beth… I—”

“Don’t. We don’t have time for that. _I_ don’t have time for that.” Her eyes were burning, so dark they were almost a new shade of blue, something he’d never seen before. Burning up his skin as her eyes searched his face. “You can walk away, or you can stay right here. But don’t you dare waste my time by lyin’ to me.”

He stared at her, just hearing the ragged sound of his breath and the blood pounding in his ears. Beth’s expression softened after a moment, seeing something there in his face. Her eyes were still dark, dark blue, weighing heavily on his face, but her mouth was softening, lips parting. Felt her right hand loosen up on his shirt, the pads of her fingers rubbing against him softly. Daryl dropped his head, staring down at her wrists and arms, her fingers gripping his dirty brown shirt. “Look. We can talk it to death later. We can never talk about it, if that’s what you have to do. But right now, don’t pretend with me. It was _always_ going to come down to this. So don’t you lie to me again.” Beth’s voice was almost pleading, but he knew that she didn’t do that. Knew she wouldn’t ever beg him. She’d offer herself to him a handful of times. Only let him get away with lying to her so many times. How many times did he have left?

Daryl felt her hands shift, holding on more firmly. He felt her move close, the brush of her hips as she shifted her weight. And then he felt the lightest touch, her soft lips brushing at the corner of his mouth. Felt the warmth of her skin as he breathed her in, still that raw scent that was all her. Felt how soft her lips were, just a little wet where they pressed into his skin, as the tip of her nose rubbed across his cheek for a brief second. Felt the whole world, moving slower than ever, just so he could remember every bit of Beth Greene kissing him.

Just like that, the world snapped back into focus. And Daryl just reacted. Lowered his head, angling his jaw, and pressed his lips to hers. Daryl closed his eyes at the feel of her mouth under his, her lips full and yielding as she returned the kiss. Gentler than he was used to, more aching. But rougher, too. More raw. Beth shivered, a tremble he felt in all the places their bodies were locked together. Felt his body echo hers, a cold heat spreading across the width his shoulders and down the long curve of his spine.

Dropping his hand from the shelf, he let it brush against the long, tangled waves of her ponytail before he placed it on the back of her neck, all her delicate vertebrae shifting under his calloused palm while his thumb stroked her pulse. His free arm wrapped around her waist, more gently than the hard desperation of earlier. Beth stepped closer to him, breasts brushing against him more fully. In the next instant, he nipped her, just a little pressure on the soft, plump skin of her wet lower lip. Felt her hands tighten, curling into fists against his chest, and he had to fight the shudder that threatened to ripple over his shoulders. Beth opened her mouth to him when his teeth let go of her lower lip, making a noise in her throat, a noise he felt so acutely it was almost like pain. She tasted good, he realized, as he stroked his tongue against hers. Better than anything he’d ever had his mouth on. Unable to stop, his hand gripped her neck just a little harder. Felt the blood pounding in his body and hers, and his other hand swept upwards, searching out the small of her back, clenching her shirt in his fist.

As his mouth slanted over hers, Daryl felt strangely at peace, all while his body was burning. Didn’t want to fuck her where she stood. Not yet. Just wanted to taste her. Just wanted his hand on her neck. Wanted her fingers wrapped up in his shirt and her body brushing against his. Just wanted this moment up against the stacks. Beth was right. It was always going to come down to this, whatever was between them. There was always going to be some moment like this, where he finally gave into her. And this, just his mouth on hers, hands not straying too far, just this. This was enough for him. This was enough for now.

Pressing one last kiss to her mouth, Daryl pulled back, opening his eyes to the dim room around them. Stayed holding onto her, and she kept her hands on his shirt as she looked up at him with those dark, dark blue eyes he’d never seen before this night.

And then she just smiled up at him, swollen lips curving into satisfied smile. And Daryl had to ask himself how he took so goddamn long to get here.


	9. Chapter Nine

The dream started out like plenty of other ones. Soft, throaty laughter that vibrated against his mouth where it was pressed to the side of her neck. The silky skin of her bare back, delicate shoulder blades shifting under his hands as she tangled her fingers in his too-long hair. He could fucking smell her, the rawness of want and desire that laced the air, that made him growl and tug on her hair so her head would fall back farther. He ran his tongue up her neck before biting down on the soft lobe of her ear, probably harder than he should have, but she just gave a soft moan, eyes falling shut and her hands gripping his hair harder.

Daryl dragged his hands down her back, squeezing and stroking, until he reached her ass. Pulled her in closer to him, hands hard and almost bruising, and she pressed herself closer to him, eagerly arching up. Her small hands found the side of his face, pulling his mouth to hers. She bit his lip, hard enough to draw blood, then traced her honey sweet tongue over the wound she’d given him. He whispered her name against her mouth, more of a groan than anything.

And then her cool fingers were on his belt, scrabbling against leather and metal, her long hair sliding through his fingers as he gripped her head and took control of the kiss. Swept his tongue into her mouth as she finally got his belt unhooked. Her fingers sliding under the waistband of his jeans, thumb toying with his belt.

The dream shifted, and he was laying on top of her, his hips cradled between her soft thighs. He was propped up on one elbow, using his other hand to skate up her ribs until he found her breast. Shoved her bra up and out of the way, his thumb tracing over her puckered nipple, sweeping over the pale pink nub again and again as he kissed her, hard, tasting her and feeling every hum and shiver that wracked her body. She dug her nails into his back, a sharp sting he felt even through his shirt, and then her hands were sliding down his sides, tracing over his ribs and up his front. Her fingers found the buttons of his shirt, slipping them free one by one, baring his chest to her inch by inch.

Daryl pulled his mouth from her, looking down at her dilated eyes. They were dark, darker than he’d ever seen them, and he could swear she was challenging him. Felt fear and desire and the scars on his back, but he didn’t want to say no. So he buried his face in her neck, pressing his hot forehead to the place where shoulder met throat. Whispered her name again: _Beth_. And he let her keep going. Didn’t fight her when she started tugging the sleeveless flannel over his shoulders, sitting up a little, bending his arms whichever way she needed him to. Saw the little frown of concentration on her lips, saw the way she ran her eyes down him. Saw the way she bit her swollen lower lip as she studied him. And then his shirt was off, the steamy air suddenly cold on his bare back. And she tossed it to the side.

The shirt fell to the floor, and he saw it fall like seconds were minutes. His ears were ringing and his whole body had gone cold and rigid, his eyes going dim, just grey shapes moving around in front of him, his shirt disappearing into the gloom. He heard the screech of metal, the groaning of concrete and the echoing crash of some huge collapse. When he looked down, Beth was gone. Linoleum, scratched and dingy, rose up to meet him, and he fell hard, almost getting the air knocked out of him. Chin banged up, ribs sore. Struggling to prop himself up on his elbows, crushed by some unseen weight.

And then he felt it. Tearing and burning as his calf was ripped open, air on bone, and he just knew it was a walker, shredding him, skin and muscle. Knew he was done for, but he struggled anyway. How the hell was Daryl Dixon going down like this? Torn to bits on the floor of some fucking grocery store.

He heard screaming. His own, maybe. Saw a familiar shape moving in front of him. Someone he knew. Some impulse had him reaching out, hoping for something like salvation from whoever it was.  

Only his hands weren’t his own. The skin wasn’t as tanned, the nails were blunter, fingers shorter. That drunken tattoo of a heart was gone from just above his thumb.

Daryl knew these hands. Had seen these hands wrapped around a gun, wrapped around a knife. Had seen these hands wrapped around a bird necklace, excited to have found something to get Beth.

Suddenly he could see the grey shape moving in front of him. Saw his own crossbow. Saw his own face, shock and anger written there, plain as day. Felt the burning and tearing as more flesh was ripped from his leg. And then he watched himself turn tail and run. Leaving Zach, leaving _himself_ —whoever he was—to get ripped apart by ravenous, decaying teeth. Everything went red, then black. Then nothing, nothing at all.

…

Woke up to the near-black of his cell, groggy and sick to his stomach. Could only remember a tangle of thoughts—blonde hair, soft skin, a terrible noise, the wrong hands and blinding pain. Rolled onto his belly with a groan and pulled the pillow over his head. Fell into a deep, black sleep. Woke up hours later feeling wrong, like his skin didn’t fit, and not really sure why. Tried to push it out of his mind. He had a run to do.

…

“So?”

Daryl looked up from going through a dresser to see Glenn leaning in the doorway of some stranger’s bedroom, some bedroom in a house they hadn’t ransacked all of the rooms yet. Glenn had a smirk on his face, his arms crossed over his chest. “So what?” Daryl asked, sorting through a stack of jeans, tugging them out of the dresser and tossing them into a garbage bag they’d used for this exact purpose many times before. He avoided looking back at Glenn, but he could still feel the guy’s disbelieving eyes boring a hole in the back of his head. 

“Oh, come on, Daryl. Beth and Maggie were giggling for hours last night, man. It doesn’t take a genius to figure it out.”

“Quit talkin’ shit, man.” Daryl threw a couple of women’s sweaters into the bag, the big wooly kind that Beth liked.

Glenn started rifling through the big closet, dragging out shoes and other random crap. “A secret, you and Beth are not.” Glenn tossed a pair of boots Daryl’s way, and he caught them, dumping them into the bag. “Everyone knew when you two were fighting. And now everyone knows that she was sitting next to you at breakfast this morning. So?”

Hefting the bag, Daryl ignored Glenn, walking to the next bedroom over. This one was little kid’s room, with heaps of brightly colored Legos on the floor and Pokémon cards piled up on the dresser. Blindly chucked some of the toys and shit on top of the clothes in his bag, before rummaging through the dresser. Found some clothes that would work for that little boy with all the curly hair, Luke or whatever his name was. Just grabbed a hold of whatever he could, whatever looked useful. Someone, somewhere in that prison could find a use for whatever he grabbed. Going through kids' rooms was always the hardest, and he'd learned a long time ago to not think about the kid that had lived here, back before. Better to just shut out any of those thoughts. Think of the living, instead.

Regular, steady footsteps on the carpeted hallway alerted him to Glenn coming up behind him. Daryl fought the urge to sucker punch him. “Has Hershel given you ‘the talk’ yet? I remember _my_ talk, man.” Glenn sounded more than a little amused at the prospect.

Daryl gave Glenn one of his customary glares, which had long ago stopped bothering the original prison group. Ignoring the question, he chucked a pair of kids’ sneakers at Glenn’s head, grinding his teeth when the guy caught them and tossed them in the bag. Sort of just wanted to bean him. He’d felt like shit since he woke up this morning, and this conversation wasn’t making him feel any better.

Glenn sighed. “Look. None of us think it’s weird, or anything. I think Carol’s a little put out because you haven’t said anything to her about it, but…” Daryl tossed some more shoes to Glenn, this time a little more gently. “At the end of the day, Beth’s like my little sister. I love her. And it’s not like we have secrets, living the way we do. We’ve had a lot of hard times. There’s nothing wrong with being with her.”

Daryl kept his eyes on the closet in front of him, pulling neatly folded winter clothes off the shelves. Felt that uncomfortable burning in his belly and a tightness in his hands. “I’m more’n thirty-five, man. She’s eighteen. Don’t that seem wrong to you?”

“Not really,” Glenn said, simply.

Taking a breath, Daryl turned a bit, looking at Glenn, really meeting the man’s dark eyes for the first time since this conversation began. Still had an armful of little sweaters and shirts in his hands, tension running from the back of his neck down to his knees and calves. Looking at his friend, he was reminded of just how much Glenn had changed since Merle and the Governor had him and Maggie locked up. His eyes were sharper, more unreadable. Stronger. Always smart, but maybe more cunning. Tougher, because he had to be, because he knew just what could happen to Maggie. To his family. To everyone.

And Daryl knew just how close all of them were. Maggie, Glenn, Hershel, and Beth. They were like their own little family, looking out for each other, more than just blood. Something like him and Merle, only less violent, less acidic, less bitter, bound together with something other than a shared history of hatred. And there was a part of him that was just as uncomfortable as it was grateful, hearing Glenn say _Not really_ , like seeing a man like Daryl with his little sister was just fine by him. Made him think that the world had fallen to shit in more than one way. And there was also a small part of him that was thinking that maybe Daryl had changed enough, become enough, that maybe Glenn thought he’d do alright by Beth. That Daryl could keep her safe, could get her what she needed in this world.

So Daryl nodded at Glenn. And then they got back to work, clearing out the rest of the house before going back down to the driveway, where the big truck and Daryl’s bike was waiting. Loaded up their haul and headed for home.

The two of them had gone out for a quick run, wanting to check the open roads around the prison, the ones that would lead to that big shopping center a ways out. They’d come across a mostly abandoned looking development, and decided to head in and grab what they could. Daryl was just as alert as always, eyes wide open and ears listening for any noises that weren’t him or Glenn. And thoughts of Beth, like most times, circulated in the back of his mind, a constant running stream of seeing her and feeling her.

Daryl had been feeling like he couldn’t trust his own skin after kissing her in the library the night before. Seemed like nothing could be real, not after the way he’d held onto her, her warm body pulled back into his and melting against him with a sigh, all pliant and soft against his steel. Couldn’t be real, having his hand wrapped around her neck, feeling the beat of her delicate and rabbit-quick pulse under the soft skin at her throat. Least real of all was feeling her mouth against and under his, bitten lips and the stroke of his tongue on hers. And then that satisfied smile she gave him, after, making her look older than her eighteen years. Made him want a lot of things he didn’t feel right taking.

He’d taken down that book for her, after all that. A beat up copy of _White Fang_ , which she insisted he had to read next. They’d sat next to each other on the couch, Beth slipping off her boots and curling into his side like a kitten that had finally found something warm to sleep on. She just read her book, biting her lip and smiling at him from time to time, while he thumbed through the book of local maps and tried to focus on something besides the feel of Beth right next to him. When it came time for her to go get Judy and put her to bed, she’d just smiled at him again, pressing those lips of hers to his scruffy jaw before wishing him goodnight and leaving him to the quiet of the library.

Daryl sat there on the couch for a while longer, guilt and wanting tangled up inside of him worse than old electrical tape. Went to bed feeling that way, woke up feeling even worse. Kissing her had changed a lot. Made him want her more than he already did. But it also made him want her differently. Sex, the way he’d always done it before, didn’t seem right. Beth wasn’t the sort of girl you'd fuck when you were so drunk you’d do any dumb skank in a bathroom stall at some shit bar. Wasn’t even just the sort of girl you brought home for a weekend. Beth was more than just that dumb drunk shit. A hell of a lot more.

Worst part was realizing he _wanted_ her for more than dumb drunk shit. He’d never been such damn fool as to want more than that from any woman. Daryl liked just sitting on the couch with her, hearing her absentminded humming as she thumbed through old books. Liked listening to her talk while he worked on the cars. Liked watching her with the baby, holding her hand while the baby slept. Liked seeing that necklace hanging from her neck and knowing he put it there. Liked that bruise on her hip, and knowing he put that there, too. And he sure as shit liked pulling her close and putting his mouth on hers, like they were meant to be fused together like that. Like thinking that wasn't something dreamed up by a lonely body and too much time inside his own goddamn head. He liked having all those things in one woman, one pretty little blonde with blue eyes that near about killed him every time he looked at her.

And that was more than Daryl had ever really wanted from a woman. Sure, he’d chased girls before, like that waitress years ago. But it was never just for them. Never because every part of them was something he wanted to see, wanted to touch. Never wanted to keep someone near him so badly. Daryl knew he wanted _Beth_. Not just for the idea of being inside her. The trouble was wanting everything else. All that everything else, the talking with her and holding her hand, all that was something he’d never learned how to do. Hunting, tracking. Killing. All that was something he’d learned years ago, learned it so well he could do it in his sleep, could do it without blinking. Could cut up a deer or a walker or even a man, if he had to, without a flinch.

Daryl had always been outside of all of the other parts of being with someone. He could take getting the skin on his back getting torn apart. But he didn’t know how to be anything more than what he was. Felt it, like the scars on his back and the anger that slipped in and out of mind so easily, that he was never going to be good enough for a girl like Beth Greene. He was too old, too beaten up and broken down, to ever be what someone like her needed.

He remembered what she’d said earlier that day, with her fingers wrapped up in the hem of his shirt, telling him about watching the fence almost give way to the herd of walkers pressed up against it. _Carol an’ I were watching through the windows. Tried to keep the kids from looking, but we were staring the whole time._ Thought maybe he finally understood what she was feeling, even a little, as she tugged in the shirt of the man standing in front of her. That fear of watching the few remaining people that meant everything to you, watching them inches away from what would kill them, what would make them burn to death with fever before bringing them back, worse than dead. Fear of watching all that and wasting what time you had with them. Daryl could maybe understand how Beth would let herself get attached to a man like him. In some ways, he was all she had. So many had died. T-Dog. Andrea. Zach, even.

Beth had told him not to waste her time by lying to her. Had told him that she didn’t have time for that. That they were always going to come down to a moment like that, in the library, with their bodies pressed together and his wanting her burning a hole in his mind.

He could still hear her words echoing in his mind, the hardness of her voice and the softness of her skin under his hands. _We don’t have time for that._ I _don’t have time for that. You can walk away, or you can stay right here. But don’t you dare waste my time by lyin’ to me._ And he wasn’t sure what he was really doing, by letting himself hold onto her, letting his fingers dig into her skin while his tongue licked into that pretty mouth of hers.

Glenn’s words didn’t begin to balance out the knowledge that he’d just waste Beth’s time after all. Daryl knew, knew himself, he’d just fuck it up eventually. He could keep her alive, keep her fed and keep going on runs for her and the rest of them. But everything else: the talking, her hand in his and the way their bodies ran together. He’d just fuck it up, sooner or later, with Merle’s dark laughter in the back of his mind and the same old burning in his decades old collection of scars.

Daryl felt all the burning and tangling inside of him get worse the closer they got to the prison. He knew he had some water and some food in the saddle bags of his bike. Knew he had some hunting to do. Pauline had told him this morning they were down to just a couple of good size steaks left, and she wanted to get a start on making some jerky.

He pulled up to the side of the truck, revving to get Glenn’s attention.

“Goin’ hunting,” he yelled when the truck window was rolled down. “Tell’m I’ll be back tonight.”

And, ignoring Glenn’s exasperated look, he pulled ahead, roaring off across the crumbling road in front of him, shaking loose all his thoughts as the cold wind hit his face faster than before.

…

The thing about dirt, about being out in the woods, was the way it smelled. Wasn’t church-clean, or anything like that. But it was clean, all the same. Didn’t have the smell of people living on top of each other in a humid cinderblock prison. Didn’t have that itching stickiness, the kind that made his skin tight, of being too close to near-strangers. And any death smell in the woods was of the natural sort. Moldy leaves, fungus and moss. Scraps of rabbit fur and bloody coyote prints. Most of the time, he was quiet enough to not even run into that many walkers. Just a couple he could easily kill by sneaking up on them, then carry on his way, the wind in the trees carrying away the smell of human decay. Yeah, most of the time, being in the woods was the cleanest he felt, even with animal blood and dirt mixing together on his hands, sticking to the grooves in his skin and getting under his nails. All that was natural. And with the wind and trees washing the stench of the walkers away, the world as a whole felt maybe more natural, too.

Daryl didn’t let himself think about Beth the whole time he was out in the woods. Tugged down that tarp in his mind, the one he used to blank out any of the thoughts that would drive him crazy. Just concentrated on tracking a little doe, getting within a few feet without it hearing him, and letting the bolt fly, breathing easy when the animal dropped without leading him on a crashing chase through the brush. Hauled the deer back to where he’d hidden his bike and tied it up.

Daryl took a roundabout way of getting back to the prison, ignoring any thoughts about wasting gas as he sped down the road, watching the speedometer move up towards seventy-five miles per hour. He’d been down this back road before. Knew it was cleared out. Knew just what bends in the road to look out for, mindful of the dead weight on the back of his bike. Missed back roads like this. Back roads, like the crumbling, narrow one leading up to the prison, was where Daryl had grown up, where he’d driven he truck up and down, chain smoking and listening to the radio, letting off steam when he was too pissed off to fight. He’d been with a girl for the first time on a road like this, pulled off to the side and laying in the back of his brother's truck, too young and drunk for any of it. Back roads like this, he’d run up and down as a kid, raising hell with the other kids around, shooting off BB guns at empty bottles and cans, whooping the whole time as they smoked cigarettes stolen off their pops when they were passed out drunk.

But all that shit was back then, and shit had been a hell of a lot simpler in those days. Riding the way he was now wasn’t something he should’ve risked. But he did it anyway, only slowing down when he was finally pulling into the prison gates.

Nodded at Rick when he saw him heading in from the gardens, shovel in hand and looking disheveled, Carl trailing after him, probably heading into dinner. Didn’t see too many others, just some Woodbury folks wandering around. Wondered, and not for the first time, if he’d ever think of them as anything other than Woodbury people, strangers in his home. Sure, he cared about doing right by them. But they weren’t family. Not like Rick and the rest of them.

Dragging the deer over to that corner of the yard, far away from most everyone, where he could dress and quarter the deer without being bothered, without kids gawking. Wasn’t too close to the fence, either, which was good, given how the blood and guts would rile the walkers up. He’d gotten enough stuff on runs, going into the garages and rich-asshole hunting lodges to lift good knives and other shit. Made his own hoist, too, which was a hell of a lot easier than skinning the deer on its side. Cleaner that way, too, kept all the bad shit from running into the meat. He even had found a big old cooler, for storing the quartered meat. Having a regular set up like this again was something Daryl had hated going without, back when they were on the road.

Daryl laid the deer out on its side, and got focused on cutting it up. Used to be able to field dress a deer out in the woods and leave the guts wherever they spilled out, leave it all for the coyotes to chew up. These days, he had to wait and drag the heavy thing into the prison. Wasn’t worth the risk, to open up a bloody animal out in the woods and hope walkers wouldn’t stumble onto his path, drawn in by the scent. And it wasn’t so bad, bringing it back here. Just meant he had to haul all the guts, skin, and whatever was left of the carcass back outside the fence and dump it a safe distance away.

He was just about to start cutting into the belly of the deer when he heard someone approaching, uneven steps and the hollow aluminum ting on the rough ground. Daryl ground his teeth as he stood on the back legs of the deer, focusing on the shine of his blade where he laid it just against the bottom of the breastbone, dirty white fur spread under his blade. Just a quick nick, and he flipped his blade, dragging the gut hook down the belly in careful, even strokes. Kept his eyes on the gut sack already bubbling through the slit, but he could hear when Hershel came to a halt a few feet away, panting a little as he leaned against his crutch.

“Mighty fine catch you got there,” Hershel said, amiably.

Crouching over the animal, he began let the legs fall together, intestines and stomach spilling out a little with the motion. “Small one,” Daryl replied. Started working on getting the organs out, being careful around the entrails. If any of that shit got nicked or burst somehow, it’d make the whole fucking thing stink and all that would get into the meat and spoil it.

He knew Hershel had figured out long ago that Daryl wasn’t much for talking just to fill the air. And he also knew the man usually had something to say, especially if he’d hopped all the way on over here. So, he kept quiet as he worked on cutting loose the innards, turning the deer carefully from one side to the other as he worked the heart and lungs free from the muscle.

“Your father taught you how to do this?” Hershel asked.

Daryl tugged on the large intestine a little harder than he had to, freeing from the deer with a slimy snap. “Yeah.”

Hershel gave a sigh, hopping over to the cooler on Daryl’s left and sitting down on it. Daryl watched out of the corner of his eye, still carefully tugging all the entrails out of the deer, dumping them onto the tarp, as Hershel stretched out his one leg then carefully rubbed his hands over his thigh, just above where his other leg had been amputated, massaging the surely sore skin and muscles. Hershel caught Daryl looking at him and his leg, and smiled. “Never much thought about ‘em until I lost one.” Looking away and nodding, Daryl began working on clearing up the guts and lungs and heart, so he could string the deer up, saving only the liver. Focused on the animal in front of him, on the blood smeared on his arms, up past his gloves, and what he had to get done to get the meat inside to Pauline.

Daryl fiddled with the metal spreader, hooking it through the deer’s hind legs carefully, a little more slowly than usual, waiting for the rest of what Hershel had to say. He hoisted the deer up, using the cables and come along he’d pulled out of somebody’s garage and hung up out here with a stand he’d made out wood, rebar and cinderblocks. The deer was still swaying and Daryl was cleaning off his knives, getting ready to cut through the skin, when Hershel spoke again, his voice serious.

“I don’t think Beth would much approve of me coming to talk to you. Doesn’t want me bothering you on account of her. But I think I ought to, all the same.”

Looked up from sharpening his knife to see Hershel watching him, his face impassive, eyes squinting a bit. The man looked awfully different from the southern gentleman of before, eating peaches at his farm and thinking the world hadn’t ended yet. The man in front of him had cut up pant legs and his white hair pulled back in a ponytail. Had on a threadbare shirt but still wore his suspenders. Looked more worn down, but maybe a little more at peace than the angry man with his dead wife and stepson locked in the barn with a bunch of walkers. Wasn't angry at all, now that those squatters from Atlanta were off his damn lawn, shooting shit up and stealing his horses.

“I know you and Beth have something of an understanding. And I don’t need you asking my permission, or anything of that sort. We’ve all been living together for some time now, and I know what sort of a man you are.”

Daryl looked down at the big knife in his hand, his dirty hand wrapped around the handle, the gloves stretched tight over his bulging knuckles and the blood smeared just about everywhere from having his hands up inside of the deer. Turning back towards the animal, he just got down to work, slipping his blade under the skin, making cuts down the inside of the back legs. And while he peeled the skin down off the legs towards the haunches, he waited for Hershel to start talking again. To tell him that a hunter, a redneck like him might be good for keeping order in a prison, keeping them alive when the dead clawed at the fence, he was no good for the sweetest, prettiest thing to walk around those grey prison walls. Too old, too dangerous. Too wrong, in every way, for his little girl. Tugging hard, he began pulling the skin away from the meat, white lines of fat ripping from the muscle. A sight he’d been seeing his whole life, sounds and bloody scent he’d known since he was a kid, helping his glassy-eyed old man gut a deer out in the shed. His father would drink the whole time, one hand like stone on Daryl’s thin, bony shoulder and hot liquor fumes coming out of his mouth as he blindly jabbed a knife into the deer’s emptied out belly, trying to teach his weak little boy how to be a man.

“You don’t have to be afraid of being with her, Daryl. Shouldn’t try keeping away from her, shouldn’t try avoiding it. The worst thing you can do is try to stay away from Beth. You’ll still have all the same pain, and none of the joy that letting people in can bring.”

He hacked off the tail, tossing it to the side, and shot a quick glance at Hershel, who was watching him with an open look on his face, blue eyes soft, almost like his youngest daughter's, but older, wearier. Daryl made a few more cuts, slicing through some the thick fat built up on the deer’s back. Worked on pulling the skin down, fingers locked up hard around the slick skin and thick fat, the gloves giving him only a little traction. Most of it was pure force. Remembered his father telling him that it was not getting the skin off properly that made the meat taste wild, same as cutting through too much bone. Remembered a lot of shit his old man had said. Tried to remember the useful parts of his lessons, not the delivery.

_Is that how I shown ya to skin a critter like this? Damn fool boy. Wastin' everythin' I brung home for your pansy ass. You wanna eat, yer gonna do it righ'._

“I know about men like your father, like your brother. Know all about drinking, too.” Hershel shook his head a little when he said the last part, shaking his head.

Daryl dropped the skin for a minute, letting it hang down, inside out, against the lower half of the carcass. “Then why the hell are you out here, tellin’ me not to stay away from her?” Picked up his knife, hacking at rough spotswhere the skin wasn’t pulling away from the meat so easily.

Hershel sighed. “I thought about telling her to give up on you. Thought about telling you to stay clear of my little girl. You’re plenty older than her, and you haven’t had an easy life. I saw your back, son, fixing you up at the farm. I saw those scars. And I’ve seen how men can hurt those around him, just because his father didn’t treat him right growing up. I’ve _been_ that man, Daryl.” Moving his hand, Daryl shifted his grip and hefted the knife around, not really pressing the blade between skin and meat anymore, just listening. “I could see that you might never be able to do more than watch her, always looking at her from outside the rest of the world. That girl has a good heart. She wants to be yours, and I could see that you might break her heart by never being able to let her have that. I thought you might spend all the rest of your days dancing around her, making her hope and letting her down because you could never do anything more than that.”

Daryl dropped his hands, bloody gloves brushing against his pants and hand still fisted around the knife. Finally looked up, meeting Hershel’s eyes.

“But I don’t really believe that. I’ve seen you with her, seen you taking on more trouble than anybody at this prison to do right by us. I know you’re good enough for her, and so does everybody else, even if you don’t want to believe that. I know you don’t think you have the slightest notion of how to be good to a woman like my Beth. But let me tell you something I learned the hard way. A woman like that will show you what she wants you to be. She knows her own mind, and she’ll know you better than you know yourself. She’s like her momma that way.” Hershel smiled, a broken smile that reminded Daryl just how much the old man had lost. Remembered that day out by the barn, when everything at the farm really started falling apart at the seams. Beth screaming as her mother tried to rip her apart.

“Here’s what I think, Daryl. I don’t think I’ve ever hated myself so much as I did the day I stitched her wrist back up, wondering the whole time why I’d gone out in search of a drink instead of being there for her. Wondering why the hell I wasn’t there for her when both my girls needed me. I’ve tried hard, since then, to do right by my daughters. But I’m not going to be around forever. She needs a man like you. You’re loyal, Daryl. A man like you never would have left her that day. Not when she needed you. You’ll look out for her, even if she’s not yours. But she _is_ yours, Daryl. She _can_ be. I know all about walking away to live alone at the bottom of the bottle. Just like you know all about walking away to be alone with yourself. And I’m telling you all this because I don’t want you to break her heart by walking away from her. That’s the only way you ever wouldn’t be good enough for my little girl.”

Hershel slowly got to his feet, leaning against his crutch but managing well all by himself. Daryl stayed rooted to where he stood, next to the strung up deer with the knife in his hand and his mind blank but his body twisted up on the inside, fingers frozen and feet numb.

“You’re a good man, Daryl. And you’ll be good to my little girl.” And then, giving Daryl a nod, the old man turned back to the prison, hobbling and hopping along easily. But no matter how much he leaned on that crutch, his kept his back straight and kept moving, finally disappearing into those big double doors.

And as Daryl got back to work, Hershel’s words moved around in his head, rustling around with the quiet sounds of finishing up that doe. And behind all that, a quiet whisper he heard in the darker corner of his mind, he heard Beth’s voice.

_We can talk it to death later. We can never talk about it, if that’s what you have to do. But right now, don’t pretend with me._

_It was_ always _going to come down to this._

…

Beth was in her cell, working on that scrapbook for Judy, chair pulled up to her desk and papers and markers and other shit like that spread out, covering every corner of the surface. She had some sort of brightly-colored special marker in her hand, and as he peered over her shoulder, Daryl could see she was drawing some sort of flowery border around the edges of the page. She had one of those big sweaters she usually wore, hanging off one thin shoulder to show off the colorful straps of her tank top. He studied the thin, fine bones of her shoulder, like a bird’s, as they moved under her pale skin, only a little sun-kissed from being out with the kids the other day. There were a couple of freckles, just peeking out from under the edge of her shirt, dancing close to where her pale pink bra strap stretched across her back before disappearing back under her shirt.

“Hey,” he said, leaning against the edge of her cell, keeping his voice quiet.

Beth’s blonde head snapped up, ponytail flicking to the side as she turned her head towards him. Her blue eyes locked on him, a bit of a smile appearing on her mouth. She stood, walking over to stand close to him. She pulled her sweater closed, folding her arms across her chest. “Missed you at dinner,” she said, her eyes light colored tonight as they rested on him. Gentle. “Did you eat yet?”

“I’m fine. Ate some while I was out huntin’. Lil’ Asskicker sleepin’?” he asked. He nodded at the crib, seeing the baby’s usual pink onesie and that soft brown hair through the white netting.

Beth nodded, glancing over at the crib, eyes softening a bit as she studied the sleeping little girl. “Yeah. Just put her down a couple of minutes ago.”

Daryl studied her in silence for a moment, his arms crossed in front of his chest. “I gotta go check the fences. Can you get someone to watch her?”

“Yeah,” she said. “I can go ask Maggie.”

He nodded, standing upright with a push of his shoulder against the wall, digging his hands deep into his pockets. “Alrigh’. I’ll meet you out by the big doors,” he answered, turning to go.

“Oh, wait,” Beth murmured absently, her hand catching his shoulder. He turned back, catching the way her eyebrows came together and the way her tongue swiped at her lower lip before she bit down near the corner of her mouth. “You’ve got somethin’ on your face.” And tugging the sleeve of her sweater down over her hand, she reached up, pushing his hair away from his temple. She swiped at the skin there a couple times, the worn-soft knit of her sweater warm on his temple. “Just a little bit of blood,” she said, dropping her hand a couple of inches, the sweater falling back from her hand and wrist. Beth’s fingertips skated a bit along his jaw, and he wanted to close his eyes, lean into her touch. But Daryl kept his eyes open, watching the way her lips parted a little, her glass-blue eyes following the path her fingers traced down from his cheekbone. Her fingers were soft and cool, her nails scratched lightly at the hair growing along his jaw, and he might’ve shivered if he hadn’t been holding his breath.

“Beth.”

She looked up from where her fingers had come to rest, a red haze spreading across her cheeks as her blue eyes darted up to his. Beth pulled her hand away, using the same fingers that had just been on his face a second ago to tuck a bit of hair behind her ear. For once, Daryl had the feeling that she was just as unsettled as him.

Daryl pulled his hand out of his pocket, reaching out. Snagged a bit of her hair between his fingers, smooth and tangled all at once as his fingers slid over that one long lock. Pressed his fingers together hard, one last time, before letting go. Tucked his hand back into his pocket.

“I’ll be just outside the doors.” And she nodded, and he made himself turn away without a second look. Without looking at her, letting the sight of her cloud his thoughts, he had the stupid thought that he might be able to sort out a least a single minute of his day.


	10. Chapter Ten

First thing he saw, pushing his way through the big double doors out into the empty yard, was that the sun had fallen lower, sending up feeble streaks of gold into the encroaching purple-grey of the night sky. Lighting up a cigarette, he leaned back against the thick cement walls, crossbow leaned up against the wall by his feet. Exhaled out a cloud of smoke, and waited.

Daryl didn’t think much while he waited. Just ignored the numbness in his fingers, the strange pulling in his belly. Kept all the thoughts in his mind even more covered up than usual. Just focused on the cigarette he was smoking, the feeling of paper between his lips and fingers, the rasp of inhalation and his exhaling sigh. Scuffed his boots against the crumbling concrete, eyes scanning from right to left, flickering over the walkers pressed up against the fences. Weren’t too many, for the time being. Not after what they’d done the day before, with those goddamn pigs. And they weren’t all bunching up in the same spot, either. He’d have to check really good, see if there was any signs someone had been out since he’d checked the fences last night, leaving mice like walkers were stray dogs to look out for.

The door made a soft screech as it opened, just as he was finishing off his cigarette. Beth’s blonde head came out from around the door, a smile turning up a corner of her mouth when her eyes landed on him, the rest of her stepping out from behind the door as she gently shut it behind her, keeping it from slamming. Pushing off from the wall, he tossed the cigarette butt away from her and grabbed ahold of his crossbow, swinging it over his shoulder. Left his thumb hooked in the strap as he turned towards her. Beth had her sweater wrapped around her, a couple buttons undone and her ponytail falling over her shoulder, a little braid peeking out of the tangle of sun-bright blonde hair. Her smile was soft, but she seemed pretty relaxed, her arms loose at her sides, one knee bent as she scuffed her boot against the concrete. She had a knife on her belt, which made him breathe a little easier. Beth didn’t always carry one. Too many of the people walking around the prison, including Rick, didn’t always bother with keeping a weapon on them. Not being armed was a risk he didn’t like her taking.

“You ready?” he asked.

Beth nodded, falling into step with him as he started down the yard. “Yeah. Just checking the fences?” she asked. Something they’d done together a few times. Course, it didn’t feel the same as it usually did. And Daryl had the feeling that things were going to keep feeling different for him. Things had been different between them ever since that day by the laundry line when she told him how pissed she was at him for leaving with his brother. And now everything was different between them in more ways than before. He’d had his dirty hands on her, pulled her in close and hard, thumb on her pulse as her mouth opened under his. Things were really fucking different, now. Wasn’t any way for them not to be. That’s all there was to it.

“Yeah.” Tilting his head to meet her eyes, he took in the baby blue color, still soft, like they’d been back at her cell. “Your sister tell you about those mice?”

Beth nodded, her eyes clouding up for a moment. “Glenn did.”

“Alright,” he said. Didn’t have to tell her to keep her eyes open, then.

They lapsed into silence as they passed through the gate to the outermost fence. Now that she was out here with him, the air felt different. Charged, or something, like when there was heat lightning—no sound, just light that somehow echoed in yellow-brown streaks against a hazy sky. It was harder, now that Beth was walking alongside him, and Daryl felt that same pulling in his belly turn into a hollowness, like being hungry for so long that it wasn’t even gnawing anymore. Tinkering with the first support beam pressed up against the fencing, he could see her out of the corner of his eye, poking around in the overgrown weeds climbing up the fence with the toe of her boot. Beth had her eyes on the walkers clinging to the fence, her mouth set in a hard line as they blindly tried to claw through the fence, their browning teeth closing around nothing but weather-worn metal fencing. He remembered being out here the day he gave her the fixed up heart necklace, when she’d asked if he ever got sick of killing walkers and he asked her if she got sick of being inside with the baby. Beth had been tough and sweet all at once that day, not for the first time showing him how this world had changed them all. Still as pretty as a picture, gentle with the baby and men alike, always caring about the little things, the soft things they all pretended they didn’t need. But she had a darkness she carried in her eyes and a hard-won fierceness and protectiveness, a willingness to kill and hack her way out of this life. Keeping an eye on her, he watched the fading yellow light slide over her clavicle, lighting up the soft skin above the neck of her shirt, that leather bit of cord dark against her pale skin. Watched the bit of long blonde hair brushing against her jaw and the gentle swipe of her fingers as she brushed a tendril of hair behind her ear. Watched the shift of her hips, the motion of her legs from round ass to those damn boots as they worked side by side.

He could feel her eyes moving across him as they worked. Knew without looking they were dark blue again, heavy like rock as they moved over him. Daryl knew she was waiting on something from him, but he kept his silence, moving quickly down the fencing, checking each beam one by one while she poked through the weeds, looking for mice and finding none. Beth didn’t press him to speak, didn’t speak herself, and he was thankful for that. Daryl had the notion she’d figured out well enough when to hold her words in around him and when to let them out. She could be around him better than anybody, touching him with her soft hands and saying things he wouldn’t have heard from anybody else, not even Rick or Carol.

Finished up with the fencing around the time the sky was really starting to get dark, the pink and yellows all but gone from the sky. They’d just gotten back into the courtyard when the coyotes started raising hell out in the woods. As if they’d agreed upon it, they both stopped just inside the courtyard, both facing out over the woods, listening to the howling. Silence stretched out between them like a length of rope, tying them together and keeping them moving in tandem.

When he turned his head to look over at her, Beth hand her hands fisted on her hips, something like a frown on her face, like she was concentrating on the dogs out in the woods and the sounds they were making.   He laid one hand on her forearm, and she turned her eyes up to his.   Dark blue, just like he’d reckoned. Hard, but not cold. Heavy, but it felt good on his skin.

“You got time?” He didn’t move his hand.

Beth nodded, and he slid his hand further down her forearm, down to her thin wrist and her hand fell into his. Wrapped his big hand around hers, engulfing it. “Come here,” he said, watching the hardness in her eyes melting away a little, the blue looking more liquid.

Daryl led her to his corner of the yard, where he had his motorcycle parked next to that car he’d been working on. Her hand was cool and smooth inside of his, her thumb brushing against the back of his hand in slow, steady strokes. He leaned up against the car when he reached it, letting go of her hand and setting his crossbow down on the already dinged up hood of the maroon car. He dug around in his pockets for a smoke and his battered lighter. Beth just watched in silence as he lit the cigarette up before crossing his arms over his chest and looking out over the fences. She wasn’t far from him, her blue eyes unreadable. Not pulling the cigarette from his lips, he carefully exhaled. Didn’t meet her eyes but looked at her all the same, something he’d learned to do a lifetime ago.

That hollowness in his belly was worse than ever, and the stiffness in his hands was back, traveling up his arms and burning in his upper arms. He shuffled his feet a bit, settling his hips against the door of the car. Finally pulling the cigarette from his mouth, he blew out a harsh breath. Met her eyes. “Your father came’n talked t’me today. Came out while I was guttin’ the deer. Had a lot to say.”

Beth crossed her arms across her chest, plucking at the sweater where it folded over her elbows, something uneasy flickering across her face. “I didn’t ask him to.”

Daryl nodded. Took another long drag. Looked her over. The tumble of blonde hair, sun-bleached in some places and almost brown in others, a little wild against the porcelain curve of her face. Blue eyes staring at him, moving on his skin like melting ice in the middle of a too-hot summer night. Pink lips, a mouth he knew tasted and felt sweeter than any sin ever had. Her small body, thin and finely wired, like colt’s. Those hips he’d held on to, praying for salvation while wanting to fuck her so badly it hurt. Those small breasts, pressed up against his chest. The curve of her waist and the small of her back. The insides of her thighs, which he’d dreamed about but never touched. Thought about the way she sang to the baby, that soft, tired and slurring singing voice she used in the middle of the night when the baby woke up and needed her. Thought about her laughter, the way she could even get Carl to crack a smile from time to time. Her smile, and the even, slow way it’d light up her face when she looked at him. How she warmed him up when she got close, her skin brushing against his, accidentally or not.

He finally met her eyes, blowing out smoke and scratching at his lower lip with his thumb, cigarette between his fingers and hovering just away from his mouth. “Told me you know your own mind.”

“I do.” Beth lifted her chin a little, blue eyes flashing.

“Alrigh’,” he said, nodding slowly.   Took one last long drag, tossing the cigarette away and stepping on it with his boot. Took all he had to keep standing there, leaning up against that car.

Beth’s eyes moved across his face, shades of blue flickering in and out of focus, light and dark. She pressed her lips together for a quick moment, head tilting just a tiny bit as she studied him. “That all you got to say?” she finally asked, her voice soft, a little wry. She smiled a little when she asked.

“I ain’t walkin’, if that’s what you’re askin’,” he managed, his voice soft and low. “Won’t, ’less you tell me to.” Felt that hollowness in his belly. The burning in his arms and the tension running the length of his spine. But he made himself meet her eyes, staring her down. Daryl knew he wasn’t ever going to have many words for her. Knew plenty about himself, all the ways he could fuck this up without even trying. And he knew he wanted her, a bone-deep ache that went past blind need or lonely restlessness. Wanted her, body and soul, wrapped around him. Wanted her smiling, her laughing, and the sound of her singing. Wanted how soft she could be, curling against him like home. And he wanted how strong she was, balancing all those kids and killing when she had to. Just wanted all of her. Maybe he didn’t deserve it, but she was offering it. And Daryl had decided to hold onto her with both hands. Offer a dying man salvation and he’d try to take it, for as long as he could fucking hold onto it.

“Alright,” Beth said, stepping towards him, a smile curving up on those pink lips. She got close, right up against him, her boots tapping on the concrete until they were right up against his scuffed up boots. Soft fingers brushed the hair away from his eyes. “Alright,” she whispered. Her fingers skimmed down the side of his face, and he leaned into the feel of her. Her eyes had softened some, the smoky blue where water met sky. Daryl’s hands found their way to his hips, thumbs hooking under her shirt and sweater to run over the curve of bone above her belt. He was gentle with her, remembering that bruise and wondering if she’d ran her fingers over it. Held his breath and tugged her close, asking her with his hands to lean against him, and Beth did. Resting her hands just below his shoulders, she shifted up, standing on her tiptoes.

Her lips hesitated just below his, and he could feel her warm, shallow breaths brushing against his mouth, feather-light and sweet. Daryl kept his hands loose, thumbs tracing circles in the hollow of her hips, skin warm and smooth under his calloused fingertips. Felt her arching towards the movement of his thumbs on her bare skin. Felt her fingers curl into his shirt, gripping him, hard. The air around them seemed to tremble between their mouths, echoing with their breathing, hesitation and desire tangled up as one. Her hips shifted in his hands, skin moving like silk under the pads of his fingers, and then Beth had her mouth to his, her blue eyes closed and her hair brushing his neck. He let his eyes fall shut, let himself press back into her. Beth tasted good, like sugar in a world without it, and he slowly ran his tongue over her full lower lip. Daryl wanted to be gentle with her, taking his time in feeling the curve of her mouth, the trembling give of lips as she sighed into his mouth. Just wanted to feel how soft she was, delicate. Like the night before, when he’d realized there was more to it than just fucking her, he was coming to see that this wasn’t something he was about to rush. Nudging her feet wider apart with his boots, he settled her against him, feeling better for it. Her hips rested against his and she melted into him comfortably, like coming home. He slid his aching hands further up under Beth’s shirt, following the curve of her hips up to the indent of her waist. Her hands found their way to the back of his neck, nails scratching lightly against the sensitive skin before her fingers twined into his hair. Daryl's skin prickled at the touch, his hands pressing into her soft skin for a brief moment. Took the chance and let his tongue move against hers. Kissed her deeply, almost aching with how good she felt against him. He had her, in one way or another, and he didn’t want to let her go.

One hand found its way to the small of her back, tracing the bumps of her spine, her skin warm under his fingers. Beth made a soft noise against his mouth, shifting restlessly as her hands curled harder into his hair. After swallowing her cry, Daryl pulled away from her mouth, burying his nose in her hair and pressing his mouth to her ear. Took a deep, shaky breath, inhaling the warm scent of her. Tried to clear the hot haze from his mind. Tried to slow the blood rushing through him, the fast beat of his pulse. Loosened his fingers from where they were digging into her back, let them slide against her skin just a little.

“Daryl,” his name fell from Beth’s mouth, a soft sound halfway between a plea and a whisper that went through him like a bolt of heat.

Turned his head back to her, his lips brushing against hers but not quite kissing her. Put his hands on her thin shoulders, almost thinking he should push her away before he went and made an ass of himself.

He couldn’t do it, though, and in the next moment, Beth had her mouth to his again. Harder, this time. Nipped at his lip, and Daryl had his hands on her ass, grabbing her hard and hauling her closer than before. Groaned into her mouth as his fingers dug into her soft body, him hard and her hotter than a Georgia summer against his jeans. Didn’t think, just dragged his mouth down the side of her jaw, taking a wet path to her ear and down to her neck. She let go of his hair, her hands fumbling between them before she quickly shrugged her sweater off, leaving her in just her thin tank top, rucked up by his restless hands. Her hands were back on his shoulders, gripping him restlessly as he licked a slow path down to her collarbone, his nose running along her skin. Daryl bit just above the bone, lightly, tasting the salty sweetness of her skin and the bitter taste of leather where her necklace had gotten caught under his mouth. He lifted Beth to her toes as he bit down, then let her slide back down against him, his hands on her ass dragging the motion out. Fucking torture. He ran his tongue over the flesh he’d bitten, half-apology, half-desire. Beth shook in his arms, giving a soft cry as her bare arms shivered against his. He looked up from her neck to see her biting down on her lip, hard. Her eyes were dark, dark blue, her pupils dilated. She looked too goddamn good under the fading sky, eyes bright and cheeks flushed, her shoulders bare, his arms wrapped around her. Too goddamn good for him.

Daryl let out a sigh, rested his forehead against her neck. Pressed one last wet kiss to the skin under his mouth. Felt her dragging in deep breaths, her chest brushing against him as it rose and fell. Just let himself breathe in that raw scent of hers, too hot by far, burning him up. Loosened his grip on her ass, just letting his palms rest lightly against the curve. He could still taste her skin on his tongue, could feel the beat of her pulse against his skin. Beth’s fingers combed through his hair, one hand twined in the hair at the back of his neck, nails scratching at his skin.

He let one hand trail up the back of shirt, his palm huge against the bare skin he uncovered. Started at that narrow, inward curve, stroking his hand downwards to the flare of her hips. Again and again, until her breathing calmed. Worked on him, too. Felt himself resting easy against her, his breath coming in steady against her soft skin, bare above the neckline of her tank top, his body calming down.

Felt good, giving into her. Giving into how badly he wanted her. Still wanted her, but Daryl was fine just running his hands down her back, holding her close. Breathing her in. Didn’t need anything more. Just wanted to uncover her, a little piece of soft skin at a time. Just wanted to learn her little cries one by one, one shudder of her tiny body at a time. Daryl had fucked plenty of women, done plenty of different things with them. But this would be the first time he’d memorized a girl before, the first time he’d ever wanted to learn someone inside and out. Didn’t seem right not to, for once. Just wanted her, and he wanted more. Wanted to remember, for a change. Wasn’t just fucking like it was something to be done. It was something sweeter than that, something to hang onto with both hands.

“You promise?” Beth’s voice was a shaky whisper, breaking the silence. His hand stilled in the center of that inward curve of her back. He traced a small circle against the delicate vertebrae there, holding in his breath. When she spoke again, her voice was stronger, just a tiny bit louder. “’Cause there’s no going back this time. No walkin’ away.”

Daryl lifted his head. Pressed his whole hand against her back, fingers digging in and palm flat to her skin. Met her hard blue eyes, and nodded. “Alrigh’.”

Beth ran her fingers over his cheekbone, fingers tripping over his face lightly before sliding down the scruff at the edge of his jaw. She smiled, scratching lightly. “Good.”

After a long moment of leaning into each other, Daryl started to straighten up, sliding his hands down her hips before letting them fall away. As much as he wanted to, they couldn’t stay out here all night. Been out for long enough as it was. Just because Hershel had given him a blessing and a warning all in one, didn’t mean Daryl was about to drag out all his business in front of god and everybody. Beth took a step back as well, smoothing down her top with unsteady hands, and he bent to pick up her sweater from where she'd dropped it. Held it out to her and watched while she slipped it back on. As Beth did up the buttons, Daryl let himself reach out. Let himself put his hand against her skin, fingers cupping the back of her neck while his thumb swept lightly over her exposed throat. Beth lifted her head, hands stilling. Daryl’s eyes locked on hers, trying to read her, the shifting blue tides that moved through her eyes. Wasn't really sure what he saw in those damn eyes of hers, but he felt her shiver all the same. That felt good enough for him.

It was pretty late by the time they got back into the prison. Beth had tucked her hand into his, their fingers laced together, and he could feel his palm getting sweaty, sliding against her own cool palm. But nobody was out and about, and so he didn’t try to let go of her hand. Just followed her up the stairs to the cells, trailing slightly behind her because he enjoyed the feel of her tugging him along, the give and take of her fingers against his, and the tilt of her head when she looked back at him.

When they reached her cell, she leaned forward, pressing a kiss to his cheek. “’Night, Daryl,” she murmured into his ear.

“Night,” he mumbled back, not sure what to do with himself. But Beth just gave his hand a squeeze, gifting him with one last smile before disappearing into her cell.

…

The early morning sun felt good on his face, the pale yellow light streaking past the leaves and lighting up the forest floor in shaky patches. Warmed him up enough, kept him moving through the woods, crossbow on his shoulder and knife on his hip. It was quiet, today, and Daryl let himself amble a little slowly, checking the traps he and Rick had set a while ago. They caught a pretty good number of rabbits this way, so long as the traps got checked often enough. Usually found a couple of traps that they were too late getting too, with the rabbits mangled and ripped apart, messy walker tracks all over the place, scattering leaves and viscera around. Hadn’t been a bad day for that, at least. So he just kept moving along, following the usual path. Reset some snares, moved a couple, putting rabbits into a bag as he went.

Daryl caught sight of some coyote tracks a mile or so out from the prison, a few sets of prints of different sizes. They’d been getting pretty close to the prison lately, howling most nights. Smart animals, the damn things. A good challenge, back when a man could go tracking for the hell of it. So he didn’t really think about it too much, just hefted the bag over his shoulder, already following the tracks through the woods. He’d headed out earlier than usual this morning, and he had the time to spare. Might find something useful, wandering off the path for a while. Kept his ears open for walkers or animals while he followed the prints for maybe another half a mile or so. Worked on trying to figure out how big the pack was, looking at the sizes of prints and how deep they pressed into the soil. The best he could reckon was maybe five or six coyotes, none of them unusually big.

Daryl remembered back before, the pack that used to run close to the shithole he lived in. That was a small pack, too. Troublemakers, which only made Daryl like them more. Used to piss off some of his fancier neighbors, like the rich assholes that had a hunting cabin a few miles out from Daryl. Rich fuckers never knew how to clean up after themselves. And coyotes were too damn nosy to stay away, and too smart by half. Weren’t going to give up a perfectly good meal just because rich assholes with fancy guns didn’t want them nosing around.

Soil got more damp after a while, the plants a little greener, so Daryl wasn’t surprised when he came up on a small, marshy pond in a spot where the trees had thinned out some. There was quite a bit of sun coming down on it, and he could see a couple of dragonflies, big ones, lazily dipping up and down to touch the flat, murky water. He was a few yards away from the pond when he caught sight of a heron, one of those big blue ones. It was slowly wading along the edge of the pond, surrounded by the tall reeds, all but invisible. It hadn’t caught sight of him yet, and he wanted to keep it that way for as long as he could. The huge bird was mostly grey-looking, with some black and brown markings, but when the light hit it just right, the grey feathers would shine slightly blue. Moving as silently as he could, he eased forward a couple of feet to get a better look.

Daryl just stayed still once he got close enough. No sounds but the buzzing of bugs, or the occasional rustle of leaves. The bird had all but stopped, staying still in the water. It would raise and lower its head, neck curving into an s-shape as its beak darted under the water. It’d then raise its head, neck straightening as it rapidly shook its head from side to side, water droplets spraying everywhere. He watched, quiet. It felt longer than a fucking lifetime, longer than just a handful of years, since the last time he’d been able to just stand around and look at something like a blue heron fishing in a pond. The world had cracked open, and he’d forgotten that shit like this still happened. Coyotes still ran around making noise and keeping the pack together. Herons still waded through ponds, hunting for fish and frogs. Forgot that shit like this still happened around him.

Wished Beth was here to see it. And he didn’t feel bad for wishing it, either. Too late for that.

He’d fallen asleep easy last night, still almost able to feel her under his hands, the way she smelled lingering on him. Didn’t think about much more than that, and the fact that she’d said there’d be no going back this time. No walking away. And he’d agreed to it.

_I don’t want you to break her heart by walking away from her. That’s the only way you ever wouldn’t be good enough for my little girl._

Hershel’s words felt right. Daryl didn’t let himself think too hard on it. Wasn’t going to try to untangle the words of man like Hershel. Daryl wasn’t much for talking, but he could listen. And he could try to give Beth what she wanted. If she wanted him around, she could have him. Couldn’t figure out why, but that wasn’t any of his business. He’d just take what he could get and be grateful for it. Try to make it nice for her. Could try as best he could to treat her right, whatever shit like that meant these days. And, if he was being honest with himself, he was going to make the most of it, for his own sake. Never thought he’d kiss a girl like her. That a pretty girl like Beth could be in the cards for him, even for a split second. For the first time, something he really wanted was his, even if it was only until she came to her senses.

Didn’t take long for the sound of a walker to break into his thoughts. A decent sized fuck, half his belly missing, came crashing through a huge tangle of ferns to Daryl’s left, yanking the plants up by their roots. The heron let out a startled croak, shaking its head and taking off. Sighing, Daryl dropped the bag of rabbits and lifted his bow up to his shoulder. The walker was looking around, head bent at an almost unnatural angle as it tried to figure out where all the noise was coming from. He watched as it stumbled towards the pond, then dragged itself towards Daryl, crusty and yellowed eyes rolling around in their sockets, groaning the whole time. He took a breath, shot a bolt straight through its eye. Lowered his crossbow when the walker dropped like a sack of rotten potatoes and the woods fell silent again.

Shouldering his bow and the bag of rabbits again, he walked over to the walker. Wrenched his bolt free of the oozing eye socket and wiped it off in the grass. May as well head back to the prison. He’d had his time. Seen some tracks, saw the heron, and saw a walker. He’d followed the tracks for as long as he could, the walker was just a rotting pile of mush now, and it was like the heron had never been here at all. Nothing much else out here for him anymore.

He was putting the bolt back on his bow when something in the reeds caught his attention, a little flash of color. Reached out, fingers closing on the hollow shaft of a single long feather. Pulled it from the reeds, careful not to bend it. The grey feather was huge, longer than his forearm. Turning it over a couple of times, the light hit it just right, making the feather shine steel blue.

Daryl huffed out a laugh, one side of his mouth turning up. Proof the heron had been there, at least for a moment.

…

“Need any help?"

Daryl looked up, squinting a bit as he met Carol's eyes. Shrugged his shoulders before pulling back on the rabbit skin. “Guess so,” he nodded.

Carol sat down on the grass next to him, reaching for a rabbit. “Haven’t seen you much lately,” she said. “You’ve been keeping yourself busy,” she said, a teasing lilt in her voice. She nudged him with her elbow, smiling.

“Yeah,” he mumbled.

Carol rolled her eyes at him. “You know, I’ve been waiting to see if you’d ever bring up Beth on your own, or if I’d have to drag it out of you, kicking and screaming. Guess I just won a bet with myself that it’d be the latter.”

Daryl felt the back of his neck heat up. Concentrated on the rabbit under his hands, just offering her a wordless grunt as a reply. She stayed quiet for a couple minutes more, both of them working together like they had so many times before. Carol had gotten good at most things around here. Didn't want to be weak, dead weight. She had come a long way, and Daryl respected that. Maybe cared too much about him, poking at him all the damn time. But he knew why she did it, and he wasn't going to begrudge her that. Everybody had changed after the farm, and that was it.

“I’m happy for you,” Carol said after a while, losing the joking glint in her eye, looking at him steadily. “That girl has a heart of gold.” He turned his head a little, looking at her. Daryl caught her easy smile, the corner of his own mouth turning up in response. And then they settled into work.

…

“What kind of bird is this from?” Beth asked, turning the feather over in her hands. The light streaming in from the big windows from across the hall made the blue-grey vane shimmer a bit, and she ran a careful finger over it, following the grain, looking up at him curiously.

Daryl was standing next to her in her cell, hands shoved into his pockets. “Blue heron. Saw it out in the woods when I was checkin’ the traps.” She lifted the feather up, letting more light hit it. He watched her face, watching the smile that played on her lips as she considered the feather.

“It’s beautiful.” Her voice was quiet. Maybe it was just the lingering feeling of standing there in the woods, watching that bird wading in the water. Maybe it was the way the light was shining off her hair and thoughts of kissing her. Either way, Daryl heard something reverent in her voice, and it was almost like she had been standing there with him this morning. Like they’d been seeing the same thing, the same heron wading in the water, the same coyote tracks, same early morning sunlight on their faces.

He’d stopped by her cell after finishing up those rabbits with Carol, feather in his hands and stomach curling up into knots. But when he’d shown up at her door, she’d just smiled at him, getting up from playing with plastic cups on the floor with Judy. And when she’d caught sight of the feather, asking him what he’d found, he’d handed it over wordlessly, his fingertips brushing her palm for a quick moment. And while Beth studied the feather, Daryl just watched the light hitting her eyes. Pale blue today, the light-as-glass blue that made the muscles in his shoulders tense up restlessly.

After a moment, Beth lowered her hand, looking back over at him. Her cheeks turned a little pink under his gaze, and she made to hand the feather back to him.

“Nah,” he said, keeping his hands in his pockets and nodding towards the feather. “Saw the bird already. May as well hang on to it for me.”

The smile she gave him was dazzling. And then she put her arms around his neck, feather still caught in one hand. The shaft scratched against the back of his neck, the edge of the feather tickling briefly against his skin before her hands rested against him. Daryl’s hands moved automatically to her back, enjoying the warmth of her skin through her t-shirt. “Thank you,” she said. And then Beth pressed a kiss to his lips, a gentle pressure that lingered just long enough before she pulled back.

“S’nothing,” he mumbled, able to still taste her. Didn’t let go of her back, and she still had her arms twined around his neck.

Beth rolled her eyes a little at that. “Alright,” she said with a grin.

Daryl’s mouth pulled up at that, a half-smile he couldn’t help. “Alrigh’,” he repeated back to her. Tugged gently on the end of her ponytail. “Alrigh’.”


	11. Chapter Eleven

Every step the four of them took seemed to echo in the unlit dining room. Every table setting was perfectly in place on the glass topped tables. A full set of fancy silverware and water goblet and overturned coffee cups and napkin folded in some ridiculous triangle shape. All of it was covered in dust, and all of it made his skin crawl. Partly because it was too damn quiet, partly because they didn’t too often come across something so immaculately preserved, like a goddamn museum. But mostly because such a fancy-ass place would’ve always made him feel like he didn’t fit in his own clothes, in his own skin. Like he was all scabby elbows and knees, busting frayed seams and knocking over tea cups.

Michonne had found this place a while back, on one of her trips out scouring the countryside for the Governor. It was some sort of five star restaurant up on a hill and on a goddamn lake, apparently locked up tight since shit hit the fan and abandoned and forgotten by everyone. Probably because the people that could’ve ever afforded to go to a place like this were all rich fuckers without a skill in the world, aside from driving fancy cars and spending money. It was piss poor comfort to know that people like him were who everybody was looking up to these days, now that it was the end of the fucking world. Now that knowing how to survive meant a hell of a lot more than knowing how to look good while staring down your nose at the dirty little people.

Maggie paused for a minute, running her fingers along the edge of heavy glass goblet. Her face was all tense, mouth curved down and a furrow in her brow, when she turned her head to stare blankly out of the streaky windows, looking out over the placid blue lake and overgrown lawn. Glenn appeared by her side, and Daryl moved forward a little to catch up with Michonne when the couple caught each other’s hands.

“Maybe we should’ve had our wedding reception here,” he heard Glenn say to Maggie. Gentle teasing.

Daryl barely caught Maggie’s low-pitched answer, but the crack in her voice seemed to echo in his ears. “Sure is beautiful here.”

He heard the two of them start walking again, light footsteps on the thick carpeting. “Still wouldn’t trade our wedding for anything,” Glenn said, the two of them still probably holding hands as they caught up. Maggie breathed out a whispery, tiny sigh behind him.

Michonne nodded to first to Daryl then to Glenn and Maggie. She raised her katana as Daryl rapped on the swing door leading into the kitchen, peering into the porthole window. Nothing moved. No sounds. After a long moment, he slowly eased the door open, crossbow raised and finger hovering over the trigger.

Nothing. Just a stainless steel expanse of kitchen, everything seemingly in its place and covered in a thin layer of dust. They did a quick walkthrough of the kitchen, holding their breath as they checked walk-in coolers full of rotted meat and vegetables and oozing, waxy cardboard boxes. Found a huge pantry full of dry goods, huge cans and jars and boxes of non-perishable food. “Looks clear,” he said, eyes darting from the grill to the wall of coolers to the dishwashing machine and back again. “Let’s find a back door. Bring the car around and load ‘er up.” Maggie and Glenn agreed, already at work dragging food out of the pantry. Michonne offered to go with him.

Daryl headed off to the far corner of the kitchen, following a short hallway to a big set of double doors that led to a loading bay. “You can stay here an’ watch the door. I’ll bring the car around,” he said, turning around to meet Michonne’s eyes. “Make sure that we don’t get locked out.”

“Got it,” she said, a little drily. Never really sure, with her.

He slung his bow across his shoulder, jogging around the tall, white plantation style building and down a sloping drive to where they had the Hyundai parked out front. Still so goddamned quiet up here. It was fucking eerie. Probably would’ve felt better if he had seen some walkers, or even some people. Not that he was complaining. Just didn’t trust in this momentary run of good luck, is all. Daryl looked up at the big white building and the long since overgrown garden, bright colored flowers getting choked out by the weeds. He twisted the key in the ignition as he studied the decaying-by-degrees building, the dirty and chipping white siding and blown-askew shutters. Studied the peeling sign: _The Red Magnolia_ , the red and black lettering peeling away. Shook his head as he turned the wheel and headed up the gravelly drive. Still looking around carefully, watching the sparse tree line and his mirrors, he backed the car up to the loading bay.

“Awfully quiet out there,” Michonne commented when he got out of the car. Her dark eyes were moving like his had been this whole time, scanning the open spaces around them, jumping from one corner of her vision to the next.

“Seems like it,” he agreed, walking up the stairs to the loading dock.

They stood silently next to each other, him with his thumb hooked under the strap of his crossbow, her with her right arm flexing a bit as she held her sword steady next to her leg. Michonne breathed out a low-pitched sigh after a moment. “Never thought listening to the quiet would make me feel worse. Always makes me worry about the other shoe getting ready to drop.”

He glanced at her out of the corner of his eye. “Yeah,” he said. “Hate waitin’.” Her dark eyes seemed to glitter as she stared at the lightly wooded area beyond the loading dock, and he was reminded of a big cat, all long, smooth muscle and eyes that could easily track every motion, prey or pack-mate.

“Why do you think I’ve been out there? There’s too much waiting at the prison. Too much sitting pretty.” She turned her eyes to him, that sidelong look of hers, and continued. “Would’ve thought you hated it, too."

“Don’t like it,” he said, watching the movement of a squirrel in the distance as it skittered up a narrow tree trunk and onto a skinny branch, leaves swaying behind it. Daryl thought carefully for a moment, turning his thoughts over in his mind before speaking them out loud. “S’always gonna be like this. Waitin’ for whatever’s comin’. Just know I’d rather be in there, with ‘em all when it happens. Not out here, alone.” And as he spoke, he saw in her own eyes that she was listening to his words carefully, maybe considering them. That was the thing about Michonne. Didn’t know much about her, other than that she was lethal with that sword of hers and that she had a soft spot for Carl. That was the important shit, anyways. She had his respect, maybe because they were so much alike. For the two of them, the before was mostly blotted out, kept sealed up inside them. Didn’t wear it on their sleeves, like Rick or Hershel. Now they were about trying to survive, trying to figure out what that meant when there was a whole bunch of people counting on them. For him, that meant sticking close to the prison, stepping up where Rick couldn’t. Dealing with the waiting as best he could. And for Michonne, that meant going out there, burning up all that waiting by chasing the Governor’s ghost and hoping to finally get her chance to kill him. They both would volunteer to put their necks on the line, whenever they had to, and in their own ways. They both really gave a damn about the people they’d lost, and the people they still had.

Michonne tucked her sword away. “Better get back inside. They’re probably just about finished up in there.” She swung the big double door open, heading down the dim corridor to the kitchen, and Daryl followed after making sure the heavy door had clicked shut behind him.

Back in the kitchens, Maggie and Glenn had lugged piles of foodstuff to the door heading out to the corridor, big jugs of vinegar and oil and huge cans of beans and sacks of flour and sugar. Even had big canisters of spices, which would give people something to get excited about, maybe forget about all the fuss of the morning. It was a pretty damn good haul, all in all. Probably take a bit of work to get the car loaded up well enough so they could all fit in there. Not a bad problem to have, though, these days.

Daryl and Michonne started loading up the car while Maggie and Glenn finished up emptying out the pantry. They hauled everything down the hallway to the loading bay, and by the time the last of it was out there on that cement pad, Glenn and Maggie were stripping the administrative offices of anything of value.

Still no sight of anything out there, so they didn’t rush themselves packing up the Hyundai. Daryl jumped off the dock, standing to the side of the vehicle, letting Michonne hand him down cans and sacks and boxes of food, which he stacked carefully. Used to just throw his shit in the back of his truck, back before. Tools and rope and ammo, rattling around with empty packs of cigarettes and half-crushed beer cans. He’d gotten good and cramming as much shit as possible into cramped cars, these days. Never let a goddamned bit of food or car space go to waste.

Michonne was handing him down a heavy sack of flour when she broke the silence they’d been working in. “So,” she said, a slight smile flitting across her face as she tossed the flour down into his waiting arms. “You and Beth?” she asked, one eyebrow arched.

The back of his neck heated up as he settled the flour into the car. “What about her?” he asked, keeping his tone even and averting his eyes from hers.

“You’re gonna clam up on me now, Redneck?” she asked, handing him down a giant jar of pickles. “You really are a piece of work. Whole thing's got more than half the prison scratching their heads and you act like there's nothing to say about that girl hanging around with an ol' grump like you." She rolled her eyes, still grinning at him, and he just shook his head.

“I miss the days when you were all last samurai on us,” Daryl finally offered up, when her knowing smile started really burning the back of his neck. Tossed a bag of chocolate chips into the car. “Weren’t always runnin’ your mouth, back then.” His tone didn’t have any bite though, which probably told the damn woman all she wanted to know anyway.

Michonne just shook her head, lobbing a box of raisins at his head which he caught with a single hand. "Leaving your audience mystified, I see."

"Yeah, righ'," he grumbled.

They finished up the loading the car in easy silence, careful not to slam the door too loudly, just in case. Went back inside to check on Maggie and Glenn, who’d torn apart the offices and come up with a couple of small boxes worth of office supplies and random shit.

“We found a stairway. Looks like it leads to the top floor. Did we want to go through it or…?” Glenn let his voice trail off, looking between Michonne and Daryl in the dim light of the kitchen.

Daryl thumbed the worn strap on his crossbow. “Nah,” he said. “Just supposed to go out for food today. Car’s loaded up full. We can lock ‘er up and come back in a few days. Wanna make sure we get this food back soon, after all that bullshit this mornin’.”

Glenn nodded, and so did Maggie. So they grabbed the last of the shit from the office and piled into the car. Pulled around front, locked the door back up with a spare padlock, and headed for home.

…

Soon as they pulled away from that restaurant, heading on back to the prison, that uneasy feeling he’d been having came back to him something fierce. He’d been feeling it all day, given that he’d woken up to a Pauline in a tizzy about a mouse infestation in the kitchens. Little fuckers tore through a whole hell of a lot of food overnight, making a mess of the pantry and ruining way too much of their food. They’d had mice getting into food before. Wasn’t anything unusual. But this morning was worse than any of those other times, by far. By the time he and the others were piling into the car, six mice had been caught, all fat and sleepy like they’d been chewing at their hard-won larder all night long. Probably caught more since then, too.

Rick had given him a look, a steady-eyed stare over a chewed up sack of cornmeal that was leaking yellow granules and chewed up paper all over the floor, and Daryl knew he wasn’t alone in thinking that all those mice in the storeroom wasn’t just something that happened on its own. Something like this, happening so soon after the fence was nearly wrecked and all those half-eaten mice were found in the weeds, wasn’t natural. Somebody was fucking with them, and it ate at him. Made him wary, just the same as Michonne. They were always waiting for something to happen to them. Something to tear them up and make them run for the hills with the devil on their heels.

They were maybe halfway back to the prison, sitting in tired silence, when they heard frantic sounds filtering in through the window Daryl had cracked. A single angry scream, gunfire. And all of it getting closer to their vehicle. Daryl could feel a shift in the air, all of them breathing quick and hands moving towards weapons. He tapped on the brakes, looking around carefully but not seeing anything just yet. One hand gripped the wheel while the other scrounged for his crossbow.

He’d just managed to get a hold of his bow when a tall, drab looking figure in a big coat and a baseball cap pulled down low broke from the trees, heading towards the road with six walkers chasing after them, not more than a few yards in front of them. He slammed on the brakes, and jammed the gear into park, all of them already opening their doors to get out and help the poor bastard. As soon as their feet hit the pavement, they got to work on the walkers. The figure, Daryl could see now, was a teenage boy, dirty and haggard looking, wearing a patched up army surplus jacket. He had a big old knife in his hand, and was hacking away at the walkers as best he could without tripping over his boots.

Daryl fired off a bolt, landing a shot to the eye of a walker advancing on the kid. Michonne dispatched of two walkers with a single swing of her katana, while Glenn and Maggie dodged around each other, covering each other’s backs to kill a huge walker, well over six foot and built like a fucking train.

The kid jammed his knife into the skull of a walker, yelling from behind clenched lips as the serrated blade sunk into the skull. The kid’s eyes met Daryl’s for a burning moment as he squeezed off a final bolt. Looking at that last walker as he brought it down, all Daryl could see was the helpless anger and fear in that kid’s face. The white, compressed lips and burning eyes, light brown under dark, furrowed brows. Kid looked all of seventeen, and ready to rip the world apart with his rage.

Daryl lowered his crossbow as the kid doubled over, hands on his knees. “You shouldn’t have fuckin’ bothered,” the kid spat out, glaring at Daryl. “They’d already fuckin’ got me by the time you assholes were out of the car.”

Then Daryl saw it. Saw the torn open gash in the huge jacket, the blood and ripped flesh dripping from the kid’s left arm. Daryl’s shoulders, still buzzing with adrenaline, fell. Felt that old buzzing in his fingers, that odd sensation of not knowing if they’d work. His knuckles felt stiff and worn, radiating tightness echoing up his arms. That accounted for the scream.

“Fuckin’ hell, kid,” Daryl said softly, meeting the kid’s eyes. An apology. The kid stood there, glaring at the four of them, Michonne and Maggie and Glenn standing just slightly behind Daryl. Knew without looking they all had their eyes downcast, unable to look the kid in the eyes.

The kid swallowed hard, looking away at the hazy afternoon sunlight splintering across the tall grass. “Not much time left for me,” he said, swinging the side of his tightly clenched fist into his thigh in a slow, steady arc.

“We’ll stay,” he offered. The kid eyed at him suspiciously, brown eyes narrowed, and Daryl just stared back, taking in the kid’s sickly pale and sweaty face, the shaking and worn-thin frame. He jerked his chin to a big tree on the side of the road. Big trunk, big leaves casting shade. “You an’ me, we’ll go over there and take care of it when we have to.”

Turned to look at Glenn. “Get these outta the road,” he said, kicking a walker. Dropped his voice, meeting Glenn’s unblinking eyes. “Won’t be long now.”

Daryl walked towards the kid, hefting his crossbow over his shoulder. The kid never offered his agreement, he just followed after Daryl, dragging his boots first along the pavement, and then through the dirt and leaves. Daryl sat down beneath the tree, settling his bow on his lap. After a long moment, the kid scuffed along to the opposite side of the tree and settled down. Daryl couldn’t see him, but he heard the kid’s head fall back against the big trunk, and he heard the kid breathe out a long sigh, a trembling sound that Daryl recognized. Recognized it because he’d made it himself.

“What’s your name, kid?”

“Richie,” he said, dully.

“Daryl.” He ran his fingers over the string of his crossbow, studying it. “You probably been out here alone for a while, then.” His eyes flickered over the woods. That silence was back, only this time it was more humid, making it hard to breathe.

“Since winter,” the kid mumbled. “Fuckin’ psychos got my little sister. Becky. Been just me since.”

Daryl traced the fletching of the loaded bolt, running his thumb over it. Kid had a slow drawl, almost like the mountain accent he had. Same sort of backwoods look, with his heavy boots and oil and dirt stained Dale Earnhardt Jr. hat. Same hungry-mad look in his eyes, same look he’d seen in the mirror, seen in the faces of the people he’d grown up with. Same dirty package and the same sad, bitter anger. Probably raised the same hard way, with a belt and not much else. Dug through his pockets, pulling out his pack of smokes and his zippo. Lit one up for himself.

“Lost my brother,” Daryl offered, tossing the pack of cigarettes and the lighter on the ground between them. Another apology. One shaky hand, dirt under the nails and in the lines of his knuckles, reached out, pulling out a cigarette. A crude tattoo of a cross marked the back of the kid’s hand, in between his thumb and forefinger. Probably did it himself, drunk on whisky and making due with pen ink and a needle wrapped in thread.

“Seems like ya still got some people,” Richie said, envy making the words sharp. Heard him inhale, then breathe out. “Been a long time since I had a smoke. Becky never liked me doin’ it. Said it made me smell like Dad.” Richie chuckled, but it wasn’t a good sound. “Psychos takin’ over the world seemed a good time’a quit. Hard to find 'em, that is.”

They smoked in silence for a couple of long moments. Just the steady sound of inhaling and exhaling and the wind in the trees. Faint sounds of the other three dragging the walkers off the road and into the woods.

Richie’s voice was fainter when he broke the silence. “You can make it quick,” he mumbled, half question, half statement. “Reckon you know how.” The kid sighed, the sound more rattling that before. “It’s been just me for a long time. Dad’s been gone for years. Mom got bit in minutes, seems like. Then Becky. An’ now me.” Daryl saw the hand, the misshapen blue-black cross, rubbing the end of the cigarette into the dirt. Smoked down to the pinched filter and twisted back and forth, back and forth, into the oily soil.

Daryl stared at the sun until he had to close his eyes. “How you want me to do it?”

Fabric rustling and metallic clinking. “Here,” he said, throwing down a hatchet with a leather sheath covering the blade, the kind you could keep on a belt. The thick yellow-tan leather was cracking and the stitching had long since been discolored by dirty hands and the elements. Scratched into the leather, childishly shaped letters spelled out _Richie_. The kid threw his big buck knife down, too. “May as well keep ‘em. Won’t do me no good.”

“I’ll take care of ‘em,” Daryl promised, picking them both up, one at a time and settling them down next to him.

“Reckon you know how,” the kid said again, softly, almost to himself. “Why are you doin’ this?”

Daryl’s voice was low, when he spoke. Gravelly. “My brother died alone.”

The kid hmm’ed a response, gurgling a little. “I ain’t your brother.”

“Nah,” he said, quiet, looking up at the leaves above his head for a minute. He ran his thumbnail down a deep scratch, smoothed by age, in the wooden handle of the hatchet. “Coulda been, though."

“What’s it like? Where y’all are from.” The kid’s voice was less than a whisper. Barely heard above the rustling of trees and the birds hopping around above them. Wouldn’t be much longer now.

Daryl unsnapped the leather from around the hatchet head with his thumb, an idle movement he’d have to make sooner or later. “S’at a prison. Lots of people always underfoot.” He huffed a muffled snort through his nose. “Rick’s always farming. Got two kids, a boy and a baby girl. Lil’Asskicker, I call her. Maggie and Glenn, that couple out there. Michonne, with the sword. Carol’s good with the kids, good with getting work done. Hershel’s always makin’ sure we’re doing right. A vet’s as good a doctor as we got, these days.” The kid wheezed out a gasping breath, and Daryl moved his crossbow off his lap, pulling the leather cover all the way off the hatchet. “An’ Beth. Takin’ care of Lil’Asskicker. Singing songs and making you think the world ain’t fallen all the way apart yet.”

One more labored, rattling breath. Daryl wrapped his hand around the handle. Muscle and tendon shifting bone wearily, getting ready to stand. Creaking joints and creaking leather. The scrape of boots on dirt and leaves, rock and root.

Hollow air, and then one inhuman, rattling, gasping and sucking breath, deflating Daryl’s tired lungs. Deadweight but living fingers curled around the handle of the hatchet, settling into the worn-in grooves of another man’s hands. Loose wrist, the muscles of his arm flexing without thought, the jerk of his elbow and the swing of his forearm, force rippling down his arm. And then, a sickeningly loud, sickeningly wet and squelching _thud_. A few birds, flapping away in startled distraction.

And then silence.

…

The rest of the trip back to the prison was still and quiet, like being wrapped in cotton. Deaf and blind. Daryl had sprawled in the passenger’s seat after he’d tossed the keys off to Glenn, one elbow propped up by the window, the other hand resting against the hatchet in his lap.

…

He found Beth in the library, stretched out on her back with the baby resting on the flat of her stomach, propped up against her raised knees. Laid out in a panel of sunshine and singing a Faith Hill song from the nineties. She caught his eye and kept singing as he watched from the doorway for a moment.

Daryl walked on over to her, settling down on the hard floor next to her, trying to keep a respectable distance between them. He folded his hands behind his head and watched as she moved the baby’s hands in time to the music. Judy’s chubby little face was bright with excitement as she listened to Beth, arms waggling and fingers wiggling. Little blue eyes intently watching every move of Beth’s face.

When Beth finished singing, she gently brought the girl’s hands together in a pantomime of clapping. “Judy Grimes, country music sensation!” she cheered, eliciting peals of laughter from the baby. Daryl smiled a little at that, a quirking of his lips he didn’t think he really had in him.

“Guess you taught her a thing or two, then,” he said.

Beth smiled. “Somethin’ like that.” She laid her head back, ponytail spreading out across the floor, blonde strands splayed every which way, shining in the sunlight. “Run went okay?” she asked, turning her face towards his.

He hummed a non-committal response, looking at the lock of hair by her ear before turning his eyes to the window above him. “Looks like it might rain later. Maybe stay inside tonight, after dinner.”

She rested one hand on the baby’s belly, keeping her upright against her knees with a light grasp, a move that was neither rushed nor worried, simply matter of fact, simply knowing how to hold the baby with barely more than her fingertips. “Sounds good to me,” she said, reaching out and lightly running her hand down his arm. Blue eyes like glass, and still smiling.

…

Sure enough, it did rain. Not a hard rain, but a cool, steady one, falling from the sky in relentless fat drops that dribbled down the windows, clearing muddy streaks in the dirt that had built up there. Daryl felt restless, sitting in the library, even with Beth curled up on the couch next to him, reading quietly. He’d sharpened the blade of Richie’s hatchet, though it hadn’t really needed it. The kid had kept it in good shape. Just felt wrong, not to try to return it to the condition he’d found it in. So, he’d ran the blade through the sharpener, careful not to jostle Beth too much or make too much sound. Just the steady sound of metal on stone, slow and even. Careful. Wasn’t even sure if he was ever going to use it again. Wasn’t against a good blade, and his magpie instinct wouldn’t let him leave the thing behind. But tangled up with all that was the idea that it was somebody else’s blade. Somebody else’s weapon. It wasn’t his to use, except for taking care of the kid the way he’d asked to go. So when he’d finished up sharpening it, he’d just put the leather cover back over the blade and set the hatchet down on the arm of the couch. Used his fingers to cover up the kid’s name scratched into the leather, and sat in silence for a few minutes. Watched Beth off and on, mostly because she was being so twitchy. Followed tracks of water on the dusty window panes. Felt the same tiredness he felt sometimes, that feeling of being older than ever and not any wiser for it. Wanted to be doing something. But he knew there was nothing that was going to work this day out of his system. No amount of walking the fences, killing walkers, or getting tangled up with a dragging exhaust pipe was going to clear away the unease he’d been feeling since he woke up this morning. So he sat still, trying to clear out his mind, one word from that kid’s mouth at a time, one look at that kid’s dying face at a time.

Beth shifted next to him, crossing her legs. She furrowed her brow as she kept reading, her thumbnail moving back and forth along the edge of her jaw for a moment, from below her ear to the point of her chin and back again. Flipped a page and licked her lips before drawing the lower one in under her teeth. Blue eyes scanned the page quickly, as her hand dropped from her jaw to her necklace, finding the twin heart pendants and worrying them between her thumb and forefinger. Shifted again, this time turning her whole body around and facing towards Daryl, her toes brushing against his thigh. His hand moved on its own, dropping down and settling across her feet.

“Sorry,” she said, faint pink blooming in her cheeks as she looked up from her book. But she didn’t move her feet away.

He watched her fingers moving across the larger heart pendant, steady careful movement. Saw the red of her bitten lip. “Y’alrigh’?” he asked.

She tucked a bit of paper into her book and placed it on the couch behind her. Looped her thin arms around her knees and hooked her fingers together. Looked him with eyes that shone like polished stone but moved like water. “The mice this morning, in the pantry. Did somebody do it on purpose?”

Looking up to the ceiling, Daryl answered. “Don’t know. Probably.” Looked back over at her, seeing the worry shining in her blue eyes.

“Same person that was feedin’ the walkers out by the fence?” She still had that worry in her eyes, making her look tired, but she kept her features even all the same.

“Probably is. Rick an’ I don’t know yet.” He watched her nod slowly, chewing on her lip as she considered his words.

Beth rested her chin on her knees, looking at him thoughtfully. He still had his hand on the tops of her feet, his thumb rubbing over a spot where a hole had been stitched together in her sock. She gave a quick half-smile, wiggling her toes a little. She kept looking at him, a little curiously, as the smile faded from her face. Moving again, she scooted over to his side. He lifted his arm, putting it onto the back of the couch so she could scoot in closer. She tucked her legs under her as she rested her head against his shoulder, curling into him.

“Did something happen on the run today? You seem a little out of it.” Her voice was quiet, words brushing across his skin and giving him pause.

Daryl thought about the terrible quietness of that place, the Red Magnolia Restaurant, with its dusty, preserved table settings and peeling paint. Thought about that awful cracking in Maggie’s voice as she studied the place and whispered to Glenn. Thought about the fact that they were going back in a day or two to empty out the upper floors. And then he thought about Richie. The look of anger, angry to be dying like that, in that kid’s face. The anger fading as they smoked under that tree, facing away from each other, and the kid finally asking what it was like at the prison. And Daryl telling him, telling him about what they had here, all the good people and the act of just living. Rick, with his farming and Carl and Judy. Maggie and Glenn. Michonne and her katana. Carol. Hershel. And _Beth_ , pretty Beth with her pretty songs. And then the kid dying, getting put down with his own hatchet, just like he asked.

_Least he didn’t die alone_ , Merle’s voice whispered in his mind.

“Saw a kid. Reminded me’a someone.” He closed his eyes and tilted his head back.

Beth was quiet for a long moment. Daryl could feel the rise and fall of her chest as she breathed, relaxing because it was steady, her body moving alongside of his. Inhale, exhale. Didn’t stop, didn’t falter. Just kept going.

“Do you want me to ask who?” Beth pulled her head away from his shoulder, and he opened up his eyes to see her staring up at him. She had that old hard, unflinching look in her eyes. No pity, no softness. Just giving him the choice of pulling himself apart in front of her, or not. Daryl looked at her silently, his blue eyes tracing the curve of her pale cheek and the pink of her lips. He thought about the words he might’ve said, if she’d asked. _Merle_ , he would’ve said. _Me_.

But she hadn’t asked him. Just asked him if he even wanted that question at all.

So he let his hand fall from the back of the couch, his arm pressing gently into her back, his hand finding the base of her spine and pressing aching fingers against the sturdy bone and soft skin. Let his fingers curl up towards her hip, sliding under her shirt to trace the skin there. Felt that restlessness in him start to change as his fingers ran along her hip, making her shiver lightly and push closer to him. It made his body turn loose, his mind emptying out and something else waking up to take its place.

“Nah,” he mumbled, finally offering her an answer. Lowered his head so his nose bushed along her cheekbone. “Don’t matter,” he said, his lips moving against her soft skin as he spoke. Pressed a kiss to the corner of her jaw. Tasted sweet, clean. Smelled like sin to him, though, all want and need and not knowing which was which anymore.

Daryl didn’t want to think about that kid dying, or his brother dying, or all the shit he’d never had and all that he lost along the way. Didn’t want to think about the fact that they were doing like Michonne said, and waiting for that other shoe to drop. This was where he belonged for now. Belonged here, working alongside Rick and trying to stop them falling apart from within. This moment, though, this moment, stolen fucking minutes in the prison library, were all about being pressed up against this girl. Breathing her in and tasting her skin.

_An’ Beth. Takin’ care of Lil’Asskicker. Singing songs and making you think the world ain’t fallen all the way apart yet._

So Daryl did the only thing he could think to do, and kissed her. Held onto her chin and dragged his mouth across the smooth skin of her cheek until he found her lips, soft and pliant under the pressure of his mouth. Beth hummed into his kiss, her throat vibrating against his fingers. Tasted the sweetness of her lower lip with the tip of his tongue as his hand moved further up her side, up the dip of her waist to her ribs. Splayed his hand there, feeling her skin, warm and shivering all at once. Felt her fingers at the neck of his shirt, lightly moving against the skin, brushing back and forth over the hollow of his throat. She curled in tighter against him as he deepened the kiss, his thumb pressing into the corner of her mouth, opening her up to him. Kissed her like that until he wasn’t sure he could breathe anymore, until she was gasping against him and her hand had fallen to the v of his shirt neck, gripping the fabric.

Pulled away from her mouth long enough to haul her onto his lap, her knees ending up on either side of his waist. Beth’s hands found his shoulders when his tongue ran up the side of her neck, pressing a wet kiss to the soft spot below her ear. She settled on top of him, and instinct had him rocking against her, a slow rhythm he kept up with his hand holding onto her thigh, thumb close to the zipper of her jeans. Slid his other hand up the back of her shirt, fingertips brushing against the silky fabric of her bra. She made him fucking _burn_ for her.

Beth’s palm found the back of his neck, her fingers sliding down under his collar. Didn’t go far, just skimmed across the top of his back, close to his neck, nails lightly scratching the skin.

He locked up, ice running down his spine, spreading across his skin.   Pulled his mouth from her neck and just reached up, hand closing around all those bracelets she kept wrapped around her thin wrist. Lowered her hand to rest on her thigh. He didn’t let go, though, just kept his big hand tucked over hers, thumb pressed to the inside of her soft palm. Didn’t _want_ to let go.

Daryl ran his hand down her back, smoothing her shirt down. “Alrigh’?” he asked, looking into her eyes. His voice was gravelly, low, not much more sound than the rain falling on the windows. Wasn’t even really sure what he was asking about, but he needed to know all the same.

“Alright,” she murmured softly. He felt her eyes on his face, tracing whatever she saw in the blue-grey light coming in through the window. With her free hand, she brushed his hair out of his eyes. Licked her swollen lips, still studying him.

Maybe the world was falling apart. Maybe there was something out there waiting to get them, same as there was something in here, out to get them. Maybe he was a no-good son of a bitch, a coward afraid of anybody touching too much of him, pulling him apart and making him bleed all over again.

But he fucking had _her_.

…

Judith was wailing hysterically, long and loud cries broken up by ragged breaths. Beth hurried down the walk to Rick’s cell, Daryl trailing after her. He hung back, watching as Beth swung into the cell. Saw the bewildered look on Rick’s strained face, the red creeping up the man’s hollow cheeks.

“Oh, darlin’,” Beth said, reaching for Judy, pulling her from Rick’s arms. The baby’s wailing slowed as Beth hugged the girl to her chest, patting her back and talking quietly to her, cries turning to whimpers and snuffles and hiccups. “See,” Beth cooed. “You have to be a good little girl for your Daddy.” She turned back to the men. “She didn’t sleep so well last night. Probably overtired, is all.” Looking down at the girl with a smile on her face, she carried on. “Say goodnight, Judy. Time to get your jammies on and get you in bed!”

Beth left the cell with a smile for each of the men, rubbing Judy’s back in smoothing circles and coaxing the last of her sniffles from her. Daryl’s eyes followed Beth down the hallway for a moment, and when he turned back to Rick, he saw the man’s eyes were watching the girls, too. Wasn’t happy, whatever was written in the man’s eyes. Something sad, something broken. Something like losing Lori all over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, with this chapter, we're now up-to-date with what's been posted on FF.net. I'll be updating Heavy simultaneously on both sites from here on out. I sort of speed-updated over here, and since I'm new to the site, there may be formatting errors. If you spot anything strange, please let me know and I'll do my best to fix it. Thank you all!


	12. Chapter Twelve

“You think the Governor’s gone for good?” 

It’d been some time since Rick had even mentioned the man. The question itself made Daryl turn back and look at Rick for a quick moment before turning back to the rough trail they’d been walking through. Pushing the question to the side of his mind for a moment, he focused on the cleared strip of mucked-up clay in front of him, studying the mud and ferns and the rocks for any signs they’d been disturbed recently. So far, only a few scattered tracks, a couple walkers, but mostly just coyotes, rabbits and a couple of small-sized deer picking their way across the partially blazed trail. No signs of any herds or any people. Just them, the woods, and the left behind tracks.

The two of them were out in the woods, checking the snares they’d set up a couple of days ago. Daryl was keeping a lookout, and Rick was a few feet behind him, knife and gun on his hip, as he worked some tangles out of the string. “Haven’t heard from him,” Daryl finally replied, studying the fresh coyote prints that were pressed into the mud ahead of him. 

“You know what I mean.” There was the crunch of twigs and gravel underfoot as Rick caught up to Daryl, and they were off again, walking further into the woods, the hulking mass of the prison at their backs, no longer visible through the scattering of trees. Daryl didn’t reply. Didn’t want to.

"Michonne was saying she was thinking about sticking around for a while. Not going out looking,” Rick offered after a couple of paces.

Daryl rotated his arm, trying to crack the sticking bones in his shoulder while buying himself a bit of time to think. Nothing cracked through, and he dropped his arm with a tired curse. “Probably time she gave it up. Trail's cold.” He took another quick look at Rick. The man had been quiet for the last few days, and now he was frowning as he looked around at their trail, kicking rocks out of the way and stomping on the ferns in the path to get them dead and out of the way of the path. Ever since that night, when Rick had been watching Beth walking away with the baby with that sad, angry look carved into his face, Daryl had sensed that something wasn’t sitting right with Rick. Seeing Beth and Judy had always filled Daryl up with something warm, something nice. Struck him as strange that a sight like that was anything other than right, in anybody’s eyes. Maybe seeing his little girl in some other woman’s arms was hard, though, same way it was hard to watch Carl with the gun on his hip and hear the kid running his mouth like he did. 

“We’ve been acting like he’s gone.” Rick’s drawl was quiet, but it filled up the woods all the same.

Daryl nodded, flexing his shoulder again and dropping his arm after one last rotation made his bones snap and slide into place. His shoulder had been burning for more than half a week now, ever since just after going out to that abandoned restaurant, fighting through that group of walkers, and having to put that kid down. Cracking it had relieved some of the tension, but it still ached, so he adjusted the strap of his bow. 

The way Rick was talking had Daryl thinking back to his conversation with Michonne at that restaurant, the constant alertness and waiting. “Can’t do shit if he don’t want to be found.” Turned to look back at Rick, who was holding onto the sack of rabbits, meeting the man’s eyes. “Know we could use her help around here. Got enough going on here,” he added, thinking about those mice they’d found in the pantry, about how they still hadn’t found another place for a big run. Still hadn’t gone back to that restaurant.

Rick ran a hand through his hair, jerking his chin down in some sort of acceptance, and they lapsed into silence.

They veered off the trail after fifteen minutes or so, and Daryl kneeled down to handle the next snare they came across. This was one of the wire ones they’d tried putting together based on some advice from a stack of old hunting guides from the fifties they’d found in some moldy corner of the library. It was a waste, the wire loop busted open on the dirt and surrounded by a scattering of frantic tracks. Studying the tracks for a moment, looking at how deep into the mud they were and how long the back feet seemed to be, he could guess the rabbit had been a damn big one. Frustrated, he balled the wire up and shoved it into his pocket. “Not worth the fuckin’ trouble,” he grumbled, standing and hooking his thumb back under the strap of his crossbow. Took off ahead of Rick again, the coyote tracks having already disappeared into the denser foliage to his left. 

The last handful of snares had been set up the same way, with twisted up twenty-two and twenty-four gauge wire. Most of them hadn’t even been touched, but the two that had been tripped were broken apart, too. Useless. Daryl looked around the forest as he carefully rolled the last of the wire up, wrapping it around his palm in methodic motions. Smoothing the wire between his fingers as his hand rose and fell in smooth, slow circles. Everything was silent, just the occasional soft rustle of a squirrel above them or a bird hopping from branch to branch.

“Looks like a couple of rabbits got lucky,” Rick commented as Daryl got to his feet, wrapping the end of the wire around itself to keep it all from all unraveling.

“Nah.” Daryl muttered. “The fuckers know better now. Learned to keep away.” He shoved the wire into his jacket pocket with the rest of the wire he’d collected. Find some other use for it, maybe try to set up some trip wires out here or use it to patch up the fence. Maybe get to work on rigging up a chicken coop, or something. They sure weren’t going to bother with making snares like this again. Waste of fucking time, if this was anything to go off of.

They were almost back to the prison when Rick spoke up again. “I’m sick of looking over my shoulder for that asshole.” Rick’s voice sounded a little hoarse, and Daryl tightened his hand around the crossbow strap. The Governor again. “Maybe it’s time we all gave it up.” 

At Rick’s words, Merle’s face flashed in his mind, the yellowing skin leeched of life, beady dead eyes tracking him as the empty body of his brother stumbled towards him, looking to rip him open with stained teeth. And for a minute, Daryl thought about saying that giving up was for pussies. Opened his mouth, even. But then he caught the light moving through the thinning trees, the flash of grey concrete and metal fencing that lay beyond the trees. So he shut his mouth, and kept walking. Hadn’t they already given up on finding the man?

Light was streaming into the woods more heavily, and Daryl could just make out the little footbridge they’d set up over that crick running from the prison to the woods. There wasn’t any loud sound coming from the prison, which was good. Peering through the leaves, he could only see a single walker, stumbling around the field beyond the fences. As they made it past the tree line, he could just make out the small shapes of a handful of folks, moving about just outside the huge structure. Daryl could see the heavy wooden braces set up against the fences, the large, bright blue rain barrels full from the recent storms. Saw the way the exterior was stained with wind and water, the painted-on lettering reading “C-BLOCK” peeling, and the uneven roofs of the little sheds and pavilions, the sty and garden trellises and fences they'd set up around the yard.

They stayed silent as they made their way up to the fences, eyeing the walker as it stumbled up to the far side of the fence, its growls too far away to be heard. Pushed the hair out of his eyes with the calloused ridge of skin and bone at the base of his palm and took the bag of meat off of Rick. Watched the woods and the field as Rick pulled the keys out of his pockets, but there was only the one walker. No unusual noise, nothing out of the ordinary.

Rick unlatched the side gate they’d jimmied shut with spare wire and a couple of locks, slipping through and holding one side of the chain link fence away so Daryl could step through, dragging the bag of meat in behind him. After locking everything back up, they turned back towards the exercise yard. Far off to one side, they could see Michonne walking around with Carl, the kid windmilling his arms around with a grin on his face and Michonne looking uncharacteristically at ease with her hands tucked into her back pockets. Her back was a relaxed s-curve, for all that she had that sword of hers still slung over her shoulder. Daryl caught the motion of Rick shaking his head out of the corner of his eye.

“Sometimes I feel like my kids like everyone else more’n they like me.”

Daryl thought back to his father, the red-rimmed eyes and the busted-up capillaries spread across his face like a rash. The stale breath and heavy hands, the wheezing and crusty laughter that always felt like broken glass on his skin. An emphysmatic whistling that Merle had grown into in the last five or ten years. A sound to listen for in himself as he got older and more ragged. Rick had none of that going for him, that was for damn sure. “Bullshit.”

“You know damn well Judith’s practically attached to Beth. And Carl...” Rick tilted his head towards the pair walking around the yard with a sigh before turning back towards Daryl, their eyes meeting. “I don’t know if I want to think the Governor’s gone so I can finally try to let things get normal again, or if I actually believe the man’s gone. Used to think he was really gone, but I’ve been feeling like maybe that ain’t so true. Just a hunch, nothin’ that amounts to anything. Just feeling uneasy.”

Daryl shifted his weight from one foot to the other, feeling the twinge in his right shoulder all over again. Dropped his eyes from Rick’s, trying to pull an answer out of the air. “No fuckin’ clue, man,” he finally mumbled. Cleared his throat, the next part coming out a bit louder, a little more certain. “Guys like that, though. Always come back, even when their ass is six feet under.”

For a minute, he wasn’t sure if Rick really got what he was saying. Wasn’t really too sure himself. Fact of the fucking matter was, he just didn’t know if the Governor was going to come back for all of them. The fucker could come back with a vengeance, wilder than ever. Might not ever come back. Could be ripped to shreds, rotting into the grass. They were stuck this way, one boot on the ground, the other one hovering carefully, trying to decide where to settle their next step. Everything tensed up. Everything just a matter of trying to figure out where to go from here. They’d been doing good, running on the pure fact of knowing they were safe for the moment. Things had been looking up, for a time. But the past few weeks, cracks had started showing up. The failed run that had left Zach dead. The fence almost collapsing, the mice in the weeds. That fucked up feeling he and Michonne had gotten at that restaurant. That kid dying underneath that big tree. The mice in the kitchens. Letting themselves think everything was going to be easy was a fucking mistake to make. But what the hell could they do about a man they hadn’t seen in months? Chasing a cold trail was a fucking waste, when they needed people here to pull the prison together. Nothing else to be done for it.

As they walked across the yard, they could see groups of people at work, everybody coming into focus against the cement walls. A handful of men putting together another log brace for a weak section of fencing. A few women scrubbing down the grill and setting the outdoor oven to rights. Sasha, Tyrese, Maggie and Glenn doing something with the rain barrels. And Beth, blonde hair falling down her back in an unusually neat ponytail, tugging clothes and bedding off the line and tossing them into a big basket. She looked bright, in a clean white tank top that was loose around her belly and back. He’d never seen it on her before, but he liked the look of all that white against her skin. Pure white wasn’t something they saw around here too often. Must’ve been something Maggie or Glenn brought back for her recently.

She wasn’t too far away. Just a couple of feet to his right and he could be right there next to her. In the past few days, he’d been okay with seeking her out just to stand next to her, see her smile up close and feel that flicker of blue eyes on his skin. He'd been getting used to the looks from Carol and Rick and Glenn and all the rest. Him being around her wasn't really a secret, just something that went without saying. So he headed off towards the thin line of her body, so clean against the dingy looking set of sheets twitching back and forth. In the back of his mind, he could tell Rick was following alongside him, could probably tell what this deviation was about. But they just kept that silence they’d been holding onto, Daryl rubbing his free hand off on his dirty pants, and Rick falling back just enough that Daryl could barely see him out of the corner of his eye.

When he reached her, he did it without thought, reaching out a hand to brush his fingertips against her lower back. She was turning just at the same time, the startled look on her face fading into pleased surprise when she saw him. His hand dragged across her hip as she twisted to face him, the smooth cotton snagging and sliding against his skin before he pulled his hand away.

“Beth,” he said, a sort of greeting that more or less made sense as the name rolled out of his mouth.

“Hey,” she said to him with a teasing smile that drifted up into light blue eyes, glass blue, really, in the weak yellowish light filtering through the clouds. And then she looked over his shoulder, her smile shifting into something more neutral. “Hey, Rick.”

“Hey, there, Beth. You got Judith with you?”

Beth shook her head. “No, soon as I’ve got all this, I’m gonna go in an’ get her off of Carol.” She stood up on her tiptoes, plucking at a couple of clothespins in quick motions, left hand holding the sheet steady on the line while her right grabbed the pins away. One quick motion and the sheet was pulled down and tossed into the basket. A quick sweep of her arm and the pins were back in place.

Rick shifted his feet, and Daryl watched the man’s boots digging into the soil, still a little spongy with the week’s rain. “I can take her. I need to spend a little more time with my girl, anyway.”

And Beth just smiled and nodded. “Sounds good,” she agreed, tugging down the last sheet. Just a couple stray socks and a lone shirt, flapping on the line.

“I was thinkin’,” Rick began, and as Daryl turned to look, he could see that Rick had his hands on his hips again. Something he did when he had something to say. “I was thinkin’ maybe I ought to have Judith’s crib set up in my room. Take care of her nights so you can get some sleep, have some more time to yourself.” And he could hear it in the strong rise and fall of Rick’s voice, the gravel in his drawl. Could hear that this was something the man wanted.

A wooden clothespin fell, hitting Beth’s boot before rolling onto the grass. She was bending to pick it up before Daryl could even react, clipping the pin back on the line. Brushing a tendril of hair out of her eyes, she turned to look at Rick over her shoulder. “She isn’t any trouble to me, you know. I like having her around.” She pulled the socks down, fuzzy cotton in different colors and sizes hanging over hand before she tossed them into the basket.

“You’ve been nothing but good with her. I just gotta spend more time with my little girl, be a better father to her. Can’t expect you to do everything for her, Beth.”

Daryl had the strangest urge to run his hand over the curve of her jaw, smooth out the tension he saw written there with a swipe of his thumb. But Beth just hummed a high-pitched agreement, tucking a lock of hair behind her ear. And then she was picking up the basket of laundry, balancing it easily on her hip and her thin arms tense as she hugged the basket against the inward curve between chest and hips. “Guess I can’t argue with that,” she said, a strained smile pulling at one side of her mouth, her eyes darker than the last time he’d looked into them.

“Thank you, Beth. For everything,” Rick said. And he knew the man meant it. Could hear it in the words, in the just loud enough volume of his voice. Saw it in the man’s eyes.

Beth just gave both men a smile and a quick nod, nothing like the one she’d given them when they first walked up. A half-rotation of her body and she was walking away, leaving Daryl standing there, bag of rabbits in his hand and his crossbow hanging off of his aching shoulder. Watched that tiny white cotton and pale denim figure grow thinner and shorter before getting swallowed up by the metal doors, feeling awkward as hell standing next to Rick. Feeling like maybe he should’ve had the balls to press a hand to her face, the back of her neck. Maybe just her fucking arm, even. But he hadn’t done it, and he didn’t need anyone to tell him he was a fucking fool for letting her walk off without a word.

…

The clouds had started getting pretty thick around dinner time, and the rain had started falling shortly after that. Wasn’t more than a few hours after that, and there was thunder and lightning off in the distance, slowly coming closer and closer until it was raining and storming like hell right over their heads. Daryl had been laying up in bed, watching the storm beyond the big windows in gap he’d left when he’d drawn up his curtain. It’d been humid all week, and now the storm was finally crashing down around them, annoyance and relief all at once. It was loud as all get out, rain pounding on the cement, wind whipping by and thunder like it could shake the whole place awake.

There was a moment of quiet, right before another roll of thunder crashed through the air, when he thought he heard something. He sat up, reaching for the knife under his pillow, feeling grateful he’d left his pants on before getting into bed.

“Daryl?”

Beth’s voice, more like a rustling than words whispered from a few feet away. 

He was out of bed in a second after that, making his way to the curtain and pulling it aside. And there she was, in the dark and then illuminated for barely a second by a quick flash of lightning. His eyes ran over her, head to toe, from her messy hair pulled away from her face, to the tight tank top that wasn’t pulled down over her hips, to the sweatpants rolled up around her waist, to the toes of her boots peeking out from under the baggy fabric. “Y’alright?” he asked her, reaching for her and clamping a hand on her bare shoulder. The words came out harsh, pulled out of him by something that was clawing at his rib cage.

“’M sorry,” she said, dropping her eyes and talking to his shoulder. Strange, how her voice could be so soft, like cotton, and he could still hear every word, clear as a bird call above his head. “I just… It’s strange. Being in there without her.” Beth looked back up at him, eyes gleaming a bit and lips parted like she was in the middle of a sigh.

Daryl nodded, dropping his arm and shuffling his feet a bit on the concrete. He hadn’t even put his boots on, just bare feet on the cold, sticky-damp floor.

“Is it okay if I stay here for a while?” Her voice was still whispery.

He went still at that, just his pulse ticking away in his neck while all the rest of him locked up like ice. Daryl’s eyes drifted across her bared hipbones, up and over her too tight tank top and small chest, to the loose pony tail and fuzzy curls hanging around her pretty face and big blue eyes. In that minute, she looked so young, swallowed up by the dark and the storm moving around her. The only words running through his head were fuckin’ jailbait. “Beth…” he said, mouth a little dry. The weather was getting to him, the sudden influx of cool, stormy air breathing over him and making his joints throb.

Another roll of thunder swept through the prison. “I’m sorry for wakin’ you up. I’m just being stupid.” Dark as it was, he could see the flash of something like hurt in her eyes. 

He rubbed a helpless hand over his shoulder, digging at the muscle with the pads of his fingers, trying to get at wherever that ache was coming from. “That ain’t it, Beth. Just…” He let out a sigh. “Don’t want people thinkin’...” He trailed off. 

What he didn’t want was people knowing anything more than they already did. Didn’t want them knowing how badly he wanted her, even when she was small and scared looking. More than that, how fucking appealing it was, to have her in this small space, like she belonged here with him, amidst all his junk odds and ends and piles of knives and spare bolts and bits of leather. How this humid, cracked space might actually look like something nice with some of her books scattered around, or those goddamn pens of hers, every fucking shade in the rainbow, left piled up on his rickety little table next to that green book of hers. How nice she would look, curled up under the grey sheets, fast asleep, or walking around the space like she owned it. Like it was hers and his, all at once. But none of that was words to him, just scattered bits of made up bullshit that wandered through the back of his mind. More image and wishful thinking than coherent thought. So he just left his unfinished sentence hang in the air, letting all the strangeness between them stretch out, like the tension between lightning striking, and waiting for that growl of thunder.

“Okay,” she said, finally, like either of them were saying anything that made sense. And after a beat, another jagged line of light lit up her face, and Daryl could see her biting her lip. Still too young and pretty, but there was something so fucking lonely in those big eyes of hers, looking up at him with her thin arms crossed over her small body. Like she was trying to hold herself together. She wasn’t in her cell, singing old songs to a little girl, because that girl wasn’t in there anymore. Judy was in Rick’s cell, and Beth’s was sitting emptier than it’d been in a long time. And he felt like shit in that moment, like he was kicking her out because hurting her was easier than being in the same space as her. Easier than comforting her the moment he’d seen how Rick’s request had hurt her. She’d spent all that time searching him out, coming to him when he was too fucked up to be around anyone else. Never asked for anything but for him to share some space with her. 

And here he was, pretty much telling her to get lost because he was acting like a fucking bitch. Because he hadn’t figure out what was right, what was wrong, what anything was supposed to be like, when it came to being with Beth. 

The rain was still coming down heavy, drops that pelted the windows in a jagged, tuneless constancy. “Hold on,” he said, turning away and going over to the small pile of clothes in the corner of his room. Somewhere at the bottom, underneath some greasy rags and some shirts he’d forgotten about, he found a hooded sweatshirt Carol had pressed on him over the winter, some black thing he’d briefly contemplated ripping the sleeves off of before chucking it into the corner of his cell and ignoring it. Always hated the damn things. The small necks and those goddamned hoods always made him feel like he was in a constant fucking chokehold, all that fabric rubbing up against his throat like an arm. Grabbed his own jacket, too, pulling it on one handed as best he could while holding the sweatshirt out to her. “Here,” he said. “Roll up them pants, too.”

Daryl turned up the collar of his coat, watching the sweatshirt eat up her flat belly and thin arms. The sleeves fell down, well past her knuckles, when she bent to roll up those too long, too large sweatpants. Just the tips of her fingers moving as she folded the hem up a couple of times.

“You got a knife?” he asked when she straightened up.

Beth shook her head, and he almost asked, Why the fuck not? Instead, he just turned to knives he had laying around, all polished and sharpened, waiting to be dulled up and used. He dug around, trying to find something that would work well for her. Nothing that folded. Those were a fucking waste of time if he ever saw one, and a sure-fire way to cut your goddamned hand open if you were fumbling around. And nothing too big. Wouldn’t do her any good if she couldn’t get a good grip on it. And why the hell couldn’t he find anything with a good sheath?

And then Daryl saw that hatchet, the one from Richie, the kid that died and was put down under a big tree at the side of the road. His hand slid over the handle, over the worn grooves, fingers instinctively gripping like he’d have to use the thing at any moment. It was a good weapon, maybe a bit too small for him, if anything. He’d sharpened it up, checked it over, used it to do what had to be done. He picked it up, testing the weight of it, the feel of it, wondering how it might fit in Beth’s small hands. He didn’t let himself think about Richie, the rattling in his lungs as he smoked his last cigarette listening to Daryl’s words about the prison. Didn’t think about putting the kid down or anything like that, just shoved it all under that blue tarp in his mind, next to his brother. Next to Andrea and Dale and all the fucking rest they’d lost after all this time.

He held the hatchet out to Beth, handle first. “You hold on to this. You go anywhere, you bring this with you. And you use it. Got me?” The words sounded hard, and a part of him felt like a dick, talking down to her. But he needed her to listen to him, needed her to always have something sharp on hand. Something meant some kind of chance at clawing your way out, and he needed that for her. And her wandering around without that chance, even behind these walls, wasn’t something he could let happen.

Beth nodded, though, and he nodded back. She looked serious, like she was listening. Like maybe he wasn’t a total dick after all. 

“Alright. You ready?” he asked.

“Where’re we going?” she asked, another streak of lightning crossing over her face. Barely a moment to see her blue eyes, a cloudy blue, and her lips, the lower one swollen, like she’d been biting it. And then everything was grey again.

He reached for his bow, slinging it over his shoulder and ignoring the answering twinge in the muscles there. “Outside,” he answered, tugging the hood up over her hair. Just a few loose strands framing her face, brushing her cheekbones. He hesitated a moment, then brushed a strand away from her eyes, pushing it towards her ear.

Daryl could see her lips curving into an almost-smile. “I figured that bit out, ya know.”

His hand found hers, slim fingers poking out from the too-wide by far sleeves of that sweatshirt. “Guess you’ll have to wait and see, then, won’t ya?” 

They kept silent as they walked through the prison, Beth always close to his side. She held tight to him, even as they were walking down the stairs, trailing by just a step. They didn’t see anyone moving around in the dark. Didn’t hear anyone either, not that there was much to hear over the storm working overhead. The rain was still falling hard, but it wouldn’t be the first time either of them had been out in weather like this, and it wasn’t like they were going to be standing around outside, waiting for lightning to strike the same place twice.

Daryl finally stopped at the heavy double doors that led out to the courtyard. “Alright,” he said, quietly, “We’re gonna make a run for it. You stay righ’ behind me.”

“Got it,” she said, a single nod of her head, just flashing blue eyes and pale skin lit up by the storm, blonde hair falling over her cheeks again. Just Beth. She squeezed his hand, and then let go, her hand slipping free of his as he moved towards the door.

Without anything else being said, he pushed the door open. He stood out in the rain as she brushed past, and shut it back up as quiet and as careful as he could. He started running then, knowing even in the dark where he was headed and what obstacles were in their way. It wasn’t the first time he’d run around in the dark. Wouldn’t be the last, either.

The rain was fucking cold, dripping down his neck and hitting his face in fat, greasy drops. It was sliding down the creased leather of his jacket, dripping onto his jeans. He felt his jeans getting soaked, saw the hair hanging in his eyes in wet clumps. Kept looking over his shoulder, but Beth was always right there, never more than half a step behind him. Swallowed up by that black sweatshirt, the hood fallen back against her shoulders and her grey sweatpants flecked more and more with fat splotches of rain. Their boots were pretty loud on the pavement, hard rubber on concrete and splashing through shallow puddles. And even though he knew just where they were in the yard, he had the strange feeling of being far away from all that. Like before, when he’d go out hunting and have to chase something down, because why the hell not? Running for the sake of it. Not running from, but to something.

Finally, the guard tower loomed ahead of them, a black shape looming against the purple-black clouds lit up by streaks of yellow-orange. He halted under the roof of the thing, Beth stopping right next to him. The rain was blowing inwards at them, hitting the backs of their legs as he pulled the door open. Daryl jerked his head at the doorway, and she complied, slipping inside the small space.

She was breathing heavy when he pulled the door shut, just a soft sound that filled the narrow walls. A high-pitched indrawn breath and a rapid, answering sigh. His eyes adjusted in a couple of seconds, and he could see her, looking around, studying the tall set of stairs that led up to the top of the tower. Letting out a gust of breath, she shoved wet, white-gold strands away from where they were sticking to her cheeks.

“Don’t remember the last time I was even in here,” Beth said, her voice echoing.

Daryl ran a damp hand through his wet hair, trying to get it out of his face, shaking his head back and forth to keep it all from dripping down into his eyes and along the side of his neck. “Ain’t that excitin’.”

“It’s different, though. It’s nice.”

Grunting, he pulled off his jacket and shook it out, trying to get as much water off it as he could. “Alrigh’,” he said, swiping at the hair sticking to his neck with the back of his hand. “Head on up,” gesturing with his head towards the stairs.

They were both huffing a little when they reached the top of the tower, the empty space and those big, thick windows and open doorway to the walkway, where the wind was blowing through. The storm looked even crazier up here, closer to the clouds, higher up so they could see out over the yard and where the sky disappeared behind the woods.

He left his still dripping jacket on the lone folding chair and set his crossbow up against the wall. “Prob’ly shouldn’t be up so high during a storm. But there’s no electricity up here. Stay away from the windows, is all.” He turned back to face her as he spoke, eyes sifting through the gloom until they landed on her.

Beth was silent, standing still in the middle of the room with the axe at her feet, the sweatshirt pulled off so she could use it to dry her hair. Probably hadn’t even heard him, judging by the fact that she was almost motionless, facing away from him. He took a step towards her, studying the shape of her against the weakly illuminated windows. Her body was a soft curve, with her hips angled and head tilted, relaxed and yet somehow poised, like at any moment her arm would sweep out and she’d start to dance. But she just stood still, staring out over the yard, arms moving slowly as she rubbed the sweatshirt over her long ponytail. Her arms moved rhythmically, and her head would shift ever so slightly from time to time, moving her hair across her shoulder. His sight was good, even in the dark, and her pale skin was like marble, almost black shadows cast over the inward curves of her back and hip, and the crease of an elbow. Lighter shadows glanced off her collarbone, the line of her cheekbones. She still hadn’t tugged her tank top down those last few inches, and if he could guess, she wasn’t wearing a bra again. She’d come to him, looking like this. The sight of her, so calm and sure and still, cast up against the boiling storm raging on the other side of the glass, was strange to him, like he was watching a movie. Only, he knew she was right in front of him. He could feel every drop of water that was sliding down his back or beading on his face, a slippery coolness that didn’t feel right on his hot skin. Could hear her breathing. If he got close enough, he could see the blue of her eyes, smell her musk and sweet and salt. He could touch her.

After what could have been hours, she pulled the hoodie away and ran a hand over her hair. She sighed out slowly, barely a noise over the rhythmic clanking of the shaking fence and the incessant rainfall, bunching up the black fabric between her hands and holding it to her chest.

“Beth,” he said.

She turned at that, eyes meeting his. Like so many times before, he couldn’t see much in her eyes, but he could feel them moving over him, studying him like she was trying to see under his skin. There was a flash of white, and jagged light crossed over her features and made her glow, glass blue eyes and pale lips in a white face.

“It’s strange for you, isn’t it?” Beth tucked a bit of hair behind her ear, staring at him from just a few feet away. “Bein’ with me, I mean.”

Daryl didn’t know what to say to that. One part of him wondered if it was some sort of trick question, something he was supposed to answer a certain way. Another part of him wondered what strange even meant anymore. Strange wasn’t enough of a word for what they lived, day in, day out. But he had an idea of what she was asking, all the same, so he just shrugged. His eyes flickered up to hers, trying to gauge her reaction. Trying to find what he could see in her eyes or the movement of her mouth.

The smile on her face was a slow curve, a little bit of a laugh in the twist of her smile. “Strange for me, too, you know,” she offered. A little shrug, a small movement of her thin shoulders, and she dropped the subject. “You see a blanket over there? The floor’s awful cold, and way too hard for this late at night. I bet Maggie’s left one up here.” She stepped closer to him, rolling her eyes, “Just in case, you know.”

They found a blanket folded up in a dark corner, a big plaid square Beth spread over the middle of the floor, covering up a patch where the paint was peeling up in thick chips. She sat in the middle of the blanket, legs stretched out in front of her and leaning back on her palms. Feeling a strange sort of burning, a little like swallowing an ice cube, he settled down next to her, mimicking the way she sat. It wasn’t any different from any of the days they sat out by the cars, leaning up against one of the scratched up doors, arms and boots brushing up against each other while they looked between the world and each other. But it was different. Different because it was black as sin outside, thunder rolling through them and lightning filling the space. Different because Beth was in her pajamas, wet hair leaving damp spots on her tank top and nipples pressing at the fabric, those long sweatpants sitting low on her hips and showing off too much of her body. And it was different because it seemed like they were sort of alone, just them, sitting up here, an entire storm away from the rest of the prison. Locked up and drying out, sitting here like they weren’t in the middle of everything.

There wasn’t anything he needed to say, and it seemed Beth felt the same way. So Daryl just enjoyed the sounds of them breathing, an occasional hum or sigh coming from Beth, all of it blending in and out of focus with the sounds raging on outside of the tower. The wind and thunder, the far off noises of the fence rattling and rain slapping against the windows. She ended up leaning up against him, curling both soft hands around one of his. Couldn’t tell if she was doing it on purpose, but he could feel her tracing cuts and scars and calluses, the lines and creases in his knuckles. There was a part of him that wanted to yank his hands away, sit on them like a little kid so she couldn’t see any of what time and life and written into his skin. But the bigger part of him felt a little like a barn cat, sitting in the sun and letting the warm rays move over his chewed-over ears and scarred nose. So, he let her keep on doing it, not saying anything, and just breathing in her smell, the rawness of her mixing with the cold freshness of all that rain.

While she ran her hands over his, he turned her words over in his mind. Strange for me, too, you know. There was a part of him that refused to believe that. He’d seen her with her family, with their group, with the baby. She was good with people. She’d even had that boyfriend, Jimmy or whatever, with the cowboy hat. Zach had been after her the second he saw her. Being with people couldn’t be strange for her, because it didn’t make a damn bit of sense. He could see the strangeness of her being with him, because that still didn’t seem right to him, didn't seem like it could be true. Best he could see it, she felt what everyone did, that caring about people in this world was always strange, because they were all living on borrowed time, betting against the future with every risk they’d keep on taking, just to keep on living. Same strangeness everyone felt, only more, because it was her, and it was him. Two people that should’ve always been strangers, only they weren’t anymore. Now they were two people sitting in a guard tower at what had once been a Georgia state penitentiary, storm watching.

“What time do you think it is?” Beth’s hair brushed against his neck as she angled her head up towards him.

Looking out the window, it was hard to say. Still black and grey out, no sign of the moon. “Well past midnight. Not quite three yet.”

She hummed her agreement, her index finger tracing the hard bones of his hand from knuckle to wrist. “Is it okay if we stay out a little bit longer?”

“Can stay’s long as you want,” he answered.

Beth looked up at him, laughter moving in her pale blue eyes. “That’s right. You don’t sleep, you just wander around the prison, lookin’ for trouble.”

“Think you’re real funny, girl.” But his words didn’t have any heat, coming out of his mouth low and soft, and she leaned back into his shoulder.

The storm was starting to travel on past them, judging by the dimmer flashes of light and the quieter growls of the thunder that still echoed in the small space. The rain was still falling down heavy, the wind still whipping past, but everything lacked the rage it had when they’d first ran outside. Maybe like them, everything was calming down a bit, a little more comfortable with just being there. One of Beth’s hands moved to his shirt, twisting at some loose threads where a button once had rested, just near his belly button. “You know,” she said. “I used to think it’d always be me an’ Judy. I never forgot she was Lori’s, not for a single minute. She looks just like her. But, you know, it sort of felt like she became mine. Takin’ care of her like she’s mine is what I owe Lori. But she’s Rick’s, too. That’s what I kinda forgot. Everything’s been coming together and falling apart and getting pulled back again, and I just forgot that he’s her father.”

Daryl stayed silent. Beth’s hand moved a little, tracing the colored lines that ran back and in the pattern of his flannel. “You make me think that maybe things have to be different for me. ‘Cause it’s not just me and Judy. She’s got Rick, and Carl. And I got my family. I got you.” Her hair brushed against his cheek and chin as she moved. And then her mouth pressed against his collarbone, where his shirt neck gaped open. Her lips were wet, and her breath moved over his skin as she pulled away. “We’re trying to make everything right here. We’re gonna do it, you know? Look how far we’ve come. After the farm… Well, I was starting to think we could never find a place to be. But we’re here.”

“Yeah,” he said. “Guess so.”

“You just sayin’ that? Or do you really believe that?” She wasn’t teasing, but she wasn’t upset either. Just calm, waiting to see what he had to say.

Sighing, he pushed his hair out of his face with the back of his hand. “Still ain’t safe. But maybe that’s the way it’s always gonna be. For us, anyway. Do what we can around here, an’ maybe we won’ have to run again.”

Beth’s hand smoothed his shirt where she’d been playing with threads. She hummed her agreement, head shifting against his shoulder. “We got right now, though. And we’re staying here all night.”

“Yeah?”

She lifted her head from his shoulder. “Yeah.” Leaning up, she pressed her mouth up to his, soft and sweet, but warm. Neither of them tried to take it any farther than what it was, but it still felt like a promise of some sort. Like this was just for them. The storm, the guard tower. He brushed his lips over hers one last time before pulling back eyes open and studying the blue glass that greeted him when she opened hers.

There were a few hours until the sun came up. A few hours before they’d have to go back into the prison. Few hours of Beth sitting next to him in the guard tower, thunder growing more distant, lighting flashing dimly over her face. Few hours of just them, trying to find a place to just be, whatever the hell that meant these days. Maybe they’d figure it out, maybe not. But they had the time, at least.

“I used to have to get up early all the time, back on the farm. Help out before school. But the sun always looks different, coming up after you've been up all night waiting for it. You know?”

Daryl shrugged. “Don’t know.” He studied her hair, drying in loose waves over her shoulder, brushing against his chest. “Guess I’ll see.”

“You will,” she said, finding his hand and squeezing it. “Promise.”

Nothing to do but stay here, waiting for the sun to come up with Beth Greene tucked into his side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A/N: I apologize for the outrageous wait, guys. Final semester of grad school, and I've got until August 11th to try to pull together my all-consuming final project so I don't fail. I can't believe how long it took me to get this up, and I won't let this sort of a wait happen again. I'm not abandoning this story. I love it too much for that. Being away from it has been awful, and writing while being distracted by school has been a really challenge and an overall awful blow to my creativity. So, I'm sorry if this chapter isn't the best. I'm just sort of worn out right now. I'm trying my hardest to make sure this is still a quality story for you all, because I'd rather take a long time to write a decent chapter, than post up crap just to get it out there.
> 
> Thank you for all of your continued support, messages, reviews, favorites, follows, everything. It means the world to me. I'm sorry I've not been able to personally reply to reviews lately. I'm going to try to get back on top of that.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! :D
> 
> Come find me on Tumblr, username CoraRochester


End file.
